Rachel Berry and the Glares of Quentin Fabray
by Alice Inamorata
Summary: There is something about him - something secret. A secret past that shall be uncovered. But that something will be dentrimental and life changing. Boy!Quinn. Harry Potter/Glee Crossover. ON PERMANENT/TEMPORARY HIATUS.
1. Chapter I

Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Gazes of Quentin Fabray  
>Alice Inamorata<p>

She sits there, her nose deep within the pages of a book, highlighter in hand. It's past midnight; she knows Filtch will be looking through the halls and the library soon, but the paper is due in three weeks and she needs to finish it immediately.

Eyes squinted, she highlights another phrase, picking up her florescent pink quill and writing a note. She places it beside the heavy book once more, lifting it up into her lap. It's heavier than she expects so she squeaks, heaving it back up onto the desk with a heavy thud. Alarmed, she looks around with her brown eyes opened wide before finally relaxing.

Rachel Berry's shoulders slump, growing more tired as the seconds tick by. She hears the clock above her head get louder and louder, her ears becoming more sensitive to it each time. Her classes began in eight hours, breakfast in seven; she can't bear to be awake any longer.

"The first…wizarding revolution…" she sighs, dipping her formal writing quill (complete with pink feathers and golden streaks) into the black ink. She scribbles the words down, mouthing each one with her pouted pink lips before reading over each sentence with a second glance. Fatigue washes over her as she sighs, leaning her head back. Her brown eyes flutter shut before a large door slams shut, making her jump. Standing up quickly, Rachel gathers her items and shoves them into her book bag, zipping up the bag before she hears an all-too-familiar laugh.

"What's up, Berry? Too cool for the party?"

Rachel turns around, sighing a deep sigh of relief. It's just Quentin and not Filtch or any other Professor. Though she and Quentin had their differences, she knew that he wouldn't get her in trouble.

Quentin Fabray, though older than her, acts years beneath his age and looks years above it. He has a beautifully sculpted jaw with blonde stubble around it. The way he smirks makes him look and feel superior; he always has to have the first couple buttons of his shirt undone but his tie tied correctly with the green stripes. Blonde hair a mess, the top somewhat falling into his golden flecked eyes but the sides trimmed short. His haircut annoys Rachel: it's not even and symmetrical.

"I refuse to engage in such teenage get-togethers, Quentin." Rachel crosses her arms over her chest, her shirt buttoned up all the way to the top. The blue flecks of her uniform made her deep brown eyes stand out more to Quentin as he steps forward, brushing a hand against her dark locks.

Rachel pulls away.

"What are you doing?"

She smells the alcohol on his breath and flinches, biting her bottom lip. Pulling away, she sighs, "You should get back to the party."

"Hey, hey, Berry…" Quentin reaches forward, his cold hand surrounding Rachel's warm one. It's somewhat red from writing and reading; she flinches at Quentin's cold touch. "Come on, I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just wanna taaaaaaaaalk."

"About what, Quentin?" She snaps, leaning her hip against the desk against the book case. Quentin sits upon the desk next to it, leaning back on his arms.

"So there's this giiiiirl," he drags on, holding out his hand to an imaginary figure, "And she's kiiiiiinda hot."

"Why should I care about what girl you want to be intimate with?" She scoffs, sighing, "You're like a cat in the heat, Quentin."

"Pussaaaay in the heat!" he smirks, hopping off of the desk and walking towards the innocent Berry. "Have you had sex, Rachel?"

Her mouth opens as her eyes widen, she sighs and looks down.

"Hm…virgin…" he smirks, "Finn has lied then."

Rachel raises an eyebrow, "Finn?"

"Yeaaaaaah. That hunk of a man you got? He keeps saying he's gettin' into those white virginal panties of yours."

She feels her heart fall into the pit of her stomach as she rests her bottom on a padded chair. He's done this to me, she thinks, resting her perfectly sculpted chin within the palms of her hands, he's said he's violated me. I'm withdrawing my trust from Finn as of right now.

"You okay?"

Rachel raises an eyebrow, "Okay, one second ago you were acting like a drunken loser and now you suddenly care about me?"

"What can I say," Quentin smirks, sitting in front of Rachel and looking into her eyes, "I'm a messy drunk."

She can't help but smile at that remark. Rachel suddenly feels at ease with the boy across from her, but she knows this is only happening because of the alcohol running through his blood. Normally Quentin is ruthless, making fun of the petite girl and throwing eggs at her as she walks into the Great Hall. His Slytherin friends all cheer as Rachel cups her face in her hands, running away with tears running down her cheeks. Tina is the first to rush after her, wrapping her arm around the yolk-covered vegan.

He also took a liking to setting her hair on fire in second year. He hasn't done it since because he burnt her scalp…that, and she looked horrible with a pixie cut.

"Why are you being nice to me?" She asks, her voice soft, barely a whisper. Quentin reaches forward, taking her hands in his, rubbing them gently.

"You're a beautiful person." He says, his eyes flecking with gold happiness. "And you can do better."

"My relationships are none of your business, Quentin." She stands up, wrapping her book bag around her shoulders, her back straight. "And if I recall, you're the one who made my relationship, my private relationship, the business of the whole school."

"And I'm sorry, just…Rachel wait."

Quentin sighs heavily, groaning as he reaches forward, grabbing Rachel by the shoulders and slamming her against the heavy bookcase. In the background, the moon rises fully - the night at its darkest as the stars flicker with curiosity. It's then Quentin presses his lips against Rachels, Rachel sighing at his touch.

It's surprising; how sweet and gentle his lips are, how much he cares about how she feels. How his hands simply stay on her hips, gently toying with the shirt that fell out of the hem of her skirt. Finn's hands always roamed, but Quentin's begs for permission.

She pulls away, worried at how she begins to feel. Quentin pulls the book bag off of her shoulder, hearing it crash to the floor. They just look at the bag before their eyes meet, and when Quentin leans in, she turns her head to the side. "Finn…"

"Rachel…you deserve more." He cups her face in his hands, "I love you."

Her eyes water as their lips press together once more, in fiery passion as his arms lift her up, her back pressing against the multitude of books. She feels each book press into the small of her back, every thickness, Quentin's arms wrapping around her protectively.

Their lips move in a beautiful rhythm, Quentin's tongue gently brushing against her bottom lip. He is tentative to her, touching her soft skin beneath the blouse. Rachel wraps her strong legs around Quentin's hips, holding herself firm and high.

His lips move to her neck, gently raking his teeth against the sensitive skin. Rachel responds with a deep breath, her head leaning back on the Encyclopedia of Mystical Creatures. He rakes his fingertips across her abdomen, feeling her stomach contract and rivet beneath his touch. It mesmerized her – his warm fingertips, and when he feels his hand slide beneath her skirt, she can't help but tense.

"Quentin…" She whispers, looking down into his eyes. He looks up at her, his eyes turning a sweet light brown, darker flecks of green envy began to show throw, their eyes never breaking as he pushes her panties to the side, teasing her slit.

She's never felt such euphoria and she moans in delight. Biting her bottom lip, she wonders if she's been too loud but Quentin smirks, urging her on. He rubs her clit in gentle circular motions, watching as she breathes heavily and whines for more. Her legs open slightly and she almost falls, but with a strong arm he catches her. Holding the tiny girl up, he gently switches fingers, rubbing with his thumb and teasing her entrance with a finger.

"Have you ever..?" he sweetly asks. Rachel nods.

"Tell me."

"Huh..?" she whines, feeling him rub slightly faster.

"Tell me how you touch yourself, Rachel. Tell me all about it."

She's never partaken in something so raunchy, so blood-boiling hot, but she gives in. She opens her mouth and begins to spill the details.

"I use my fingers.." she breathes, biting her bottom lip, "and rub them inside of me…sometimes I'll lay on my stomach and grind my hips into the mattress…with my fingers still inside of me."

"Do you like how deep your fingers penetrate you when you do that, Rachel?"

Rachel nods, "They go…so deep…"

"Does it feel good?" he questions, slowly slipping his finger elegantly inside of her. Rachel moans softly, feeling herself tighten around his finger before he slips another in, pulling her folds apart.

"…Y-Yeah…" Rachel looks down into his eyes once more as he begins to pump slowly inside of her. He pushes against the spongy button, making her clench in desire each second. She becomes wet, so his fingers slide easily, coated in her sweet juice.

Quentin can smell her and his mouth waters; in a desperate act, he clenches her ass and sits her down on the long desk, pushing her skirt up to her waist and pushing her legs apart. Rachel doesn't give a fuck because it feels too damn good.

Besides, a good girl like her has never even thought of being fucked by the most badass guy in school in the school library.

She feels his lips around her and she screams in pleasure, electric volts in the millions pound their way through her body as Goosebumps arise on her tanned skin. His hot mouth surrounds her clit, sucking like the small piece of flesh was hard candy. His fingers going faster, he too moaned in delight at her sweet taste. Rachel's hips moved against his soft lips, her muscles tightening as she came closer with each tick of the clock.

"Q-Quen…Quentin…"

He pulls his fingers out of her and lets her suck on them. Her doe-eyes gaze at him while she sucks, making his eyes grow wide.

How could something so innocent be so sexy?

He pushes her legs apart and runs his hot tongue over her pussy, licking her g-spot before pushing the muscle inside of her.

After all, the tongue is the strongest muscle of the body.

She screams the loudest she's ever screamed in her life. Louder than any melody she's belted, and louder than the time she found…

Her eyes widen as she thinks of the memory, but it's immediately removed as he rubs her clit quickly with three fingers.

Her muscles clench, tighten, and finally relax as her hot come releases over Quentin's tongue. It drips from his pink lips as her body shakes, eyes gazing at the ceiling.

"I'm a cheater…" she whispers, feeling his hands run up her thighs. Fixing her panties and skirt, the door slams open and the two scramble to make themselves presentable. Rachel runs behind the bookcase and disappears. Quentin is left standing in front of Argus Filtch, smirking, with lantern in hand.

"My, my…aren't we in trouble."

Quentin tries to catch his breath, looking behind the bookcase. Rachel is gone, but her bookcase still remains.

Thank God we stopped then…it would have been hard to explain, he thinks.

His mind becomes hazy. And that was when he hit the floor.


	2. Chapter II

**Authors Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. I had the chapter written since earlier in the week, but I knew with school starting I wouldn't be able to post it until the weekend. So thank you all for waiting - you're all amazing! **

**And don't forget to follow me on Tumblr! : aliceinamorata . tumblr . com**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

Everyone looks at her oddly this morning so she double checks: no, her skirt isn't tucked into her panties. No, a button on her blouse isn't undone. She looks presentable, but people are still looking and snickering to themselves.

It's no surprise; Rachel was used to the snickering and laughter.

But the days are growing closer to Christmas break and she can't help but be excited for the Christmas Carols the Hogwarts Chorus sings. The enchanted ceilings of the Great Hall are darkened, even in the morning, with grey clouds to emphasize the coming snow in mid-December. Even though the hall wasn't cold, Rachel felt herself shivering as she sat down.

"Why are they looking at you?"

Rachel looks up and smiles. Tina Cohen-Chang sits down in front of her with her red-flecked robes, smiling herself. Tina, Rachel's long term best friend housed in Gryffindor, but they were as close as ever. They had many classes together where Tina would attempt to write notes but Rachel would be too busy with her nose stuffed in her book.

The petite brunette shrugs, "The reason is unknown, but I'm sure it's something immature." She reaches forward and grabs a hefty amount of fruit salad, piling it into her bowl.

Hogwarts was not very good at accommodating to vegans and vegetarians. All they really had was fruit and vegetables.

"Um…have you seen the drawings?"

Rachels head snaps up, "What. Drawings."

Tina sighs, combing her fingers through her hair. At that time, her boyfriend, Mike, comes dancing down the hall and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. He smiles at Rachel and runs off to the grounds where he was to begin Quidditch practice.

"Someone took white chalk and drew what you looked like naked…"

Her heart falls into the pit of her stomach as the blood boils. Slamming her fists on the table in pure rage, Rachel Berry storms out of the Grand Hall, hearing Quentin's fellow goons, Santana and Brian, laughing along with him. Tina quickly follows, trailing after her best friend with a quickened pace. Rachel was too quick, though; never mess with an angry Berry.

Though in the background, Quentin Fabray looks after the brunette with worried eyes.

"What the…" she cries, sighing at the pornographic drawing on the dark colored wall. It was detailed alright, all down to the stubble around her pubic area. The artist(s) drew her face: bigger nose, small eyes with mangy hair. Her jaw was shaped like a square, her lips in an 'O' formation.

Rachel knew exactly what that meant.

But then she saw her breasts…the artist made it so they barely existed. He made it so her chest looked like a man's, but decided to put stray hairs around her nipples. Her womanly shape was gone, replaced by a rectangle and a triangle between her legs. Her womanly area was perfectly exposed with her legs opened and what looked like juices coming out of it. The artist drew a ton of hair though Rachel kept herself perfectly groomed.

Then the crowd of people came to look. First they hushed, whispering, but then that one person laughs and points, and all others joined in. And through that crowd came Quentin, Santana and Brian; Santana with a perfect smirk on her face, Brian's arm wrapped around her.

"Striking similarity, huh Berry?" Santana asks, the laugher becoming so loud that Rachel's ears felt like they were going to burst. "I think it's pretty artistic."

"Go away, Santana." Tina snaps, wrapping her arm around a tearful Rachel Berry. Her brown eyes turned to Quentin, who seems happy at the event, but Rachel notices that he somewhat shrugs as if to say, 'I don't know what to tell you.' He also rubs his forehead and she wonders if he even remembers what happened the past night.

"Oh, 'go away.' How cute. Are you defending your girlfriend, Tina?"

Tina makes a face and takes Rachel away from the scene, holding her close and rubbing her hand on her hair. In the background, Quentin turns to Santana, the crowd slowly fades away.

"You did this?" he snaps. Santana smirks.

"How did…" Quentin turns to Brian, "You swore you wouldn't say anything."

"You never said it was a secret."

"Yes I did!"

"We didn't shake on it…"

"You don't…" Quentin huffs, glaring at Santana, "THAT, was wrong."

"What," Santana steps away from Brian's arm, looking up into Quentin's eyes, "Don't tell me you have feelings for the hobbit."

"No, but that's just fucking cruel."

"Excuse me, Mister Fabray?" the group of three turns around and looks behind them where the professor stands. She stands tall, at least six feet with an additional four with the black hat on top of her head. Professor Minevra McGonagall looks down at the three, her eyes scolding as she scans them. "I recently noticed a crying Rachel Berry and wondered if you had anything to do with this piece of art."

The professor motions to the dark wall with her wand placed gently in her hand. Quentin didn't know what to do, so he nods and looks down, ashamed. If he had said no, it would have meant lying and possibly giving up Santana, who would obviously make his life hell if he sold her out. He had to abide by his friends no matter what they chose to do.

"Very well," she sighs, looking at the portrait and shuddering. "Three weeks of detention for all of you."

"What?" Santana yells as the woman turns her back, "I can't miss Quidditch!"

"And," McGonagall turns around, "You will wash this wall CLEAN of that portrait. WITHOUT magic."

"Okay class, raise your wands and repeat after me." The professor stands in front of the class, his short stature making him almost invisible to those at the back. Quentin sits there, standing up straight in his seat, wand at the ready. He looks to the side of his vision and sees Rachel sat down, frown on her face while a concerned Tina eyed her slightly.

Santana nudges Quentin's shoulder and passed him a note. With hazel eyes shooting between the note and the professor, he opens the note.

_I'm not sorry for what I did. But you've been slacking lately with the Berry pranks. You need to do something to make her humiliated or else._

He looks to Santana and she smirks.

_Or else, what?_

She writes back.

_I'll tell everyone your secret. You know I'll do it._

Quentin feels himself shiver as he rips up the parchment and shoves it in his school bag. He mutters the spell under his breath and the professor looks at him happily as his feather is the first one to float in the air.

"Great!" He urges, walking with his stumpy legs up to Quentin, patting him on the back, "Great job, son! Great, great job!" he laughs, whispering in his ear, "I still wonder why you're not in Ravenclaw."

Quentin smirks softly before letting his feather fall back slowly in front of him. Santana doesn't give a shit, just sitting there and staring at the feather. Quentin had no idea how she was able to do nothing in class but still pass.

He hates people like that. But she's Brian's girlfriend and he and Brian had been best friends for years.

"Okay class! Now remember, and don't forget! Next week in the Christmas Choral Dance. Our own miss Rachel Berry will be singing you all a very special Christmas carol. And anyone else willing to join the chorus is still able to join!"

As Quentin looks over at Rachel he sees her beaming and talking erratically about the song she's going to sing. He can't help but smile at her softly, but then Santana raises her hand, slapping him behind the head. "Snap out of it." She grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, "She's a dwarf."

Quentin knew with every fibre of his being not to fuck with Santana. Like she says, 'The only straight I am is a straight up bitch.' Well…until she met Brian's FRIEND.

You know what I mean.

He knows she'll tell the whole world about his other life. About his past and perhaps his future. He made the mistake about telling her, but he felt as if she was the only girl he could kind of trust. So he sighs.

But he still looks at Rachel, finding happiness in her smile. Their eyes do meet and Rachel merely looks at him, no emotion in her eyes, no smile, no flush of happiness. He feels his heart breaking, knowing his 'friends' did this to her. He knows deep down Rachel Berry is an amazing person; sweet, beautiful and intellectual. But she just had the biggest target on her forehead.

And he loved the power he gained when he made her cry, though he knew it was wrong. So Quentin picked up his bags and shrugged it over his shoulder. And while walking past Rachel, he let his hand swipe at her bottle of ink, letting it fall over and stain her skirt.

"Quentin!" she cried. He couldn't help but turn around, looking into her eyes. "Do you not remember last night?"

He did remember. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to remember what he had told her, what he had done to her.

"No. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Turning on his heels, he heard Tina fussing over Rachel. He knew her eyes were still watching him. He also knew that he had to go to the library to get some work done, but he couldn't allow himself to. He couldn't be faced with the memories they had made there.

So he walked as fast as he could to the Slytherin Common room and cursed at the moving stairs that got in his way.

He hears Santana and Brian laughing in the Common room that night; Santana sitting on his lap and playing with his floppy blonde hair.

"Do you think owls have feelings?" Brian asks, Santana giving him an odd look.

"Do I love to have sex?"

Quentin rolls his eyes, putting his nose into his Transfiguration paper. The two giggle, Santana wrapping her arms around Brian and pressing her lips to his. He hears the smacking, the moaning, the flicking of tongues.

I can't deal with this now, he thinks. Standing up, he walks past the couple and towards the door.

"Where you going?" Brian asks, turning his head.

"For a walk."

Quentin finds himself walking further than expected. He just wants to get a feel for the night, but he finds himself in the main courtyard in the middle of Hogwarts. Behind him, the waterfall is slowly freefalling, making a soothing noise that begs him to fall asleep. He does lean his head backward, looking up at the sky. The true sky was now dark in color, no cloud in sight, but the stars were beautiful.

He remembers how his father pointed out all the shapes in the sky. Until this day, he still remembers every single one of them. He finds comfort in thinking of his father; thinking of his arm around him and laughing, "See, Quen, that there is the big dipper. And the one beside it is the little dipper."

"Like us, Daddy?" little Quen would say, looking up to his father and smiling. His father would lean down, ruffling his hair and smiling.

"Just like us, Quen."

And then he left…, Quentin thought, sighing and sitting up straight. The constellations flew out of his head as he sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows. "Dad…"

In the pit of darkness, Quentin looks up and notices a pair of bright green eyes. Green eyes staring directly at him. He rises, aiming his wand before the tiny creature comes out of the dark, looking up at him with its small eyes.

It meows and Quentin sighs, sitting down on the ground and laughing to himself. The small cat, he thinks, must be someone pet for transfiguration class. Quentin himself found a small white owl which he decided to call Snow; in his first year he had a rat but then the thing started to smell. Snow is smart; he likes to fly around between his old home in Ohio and here. He expects him for classes and he is always there.

"Come here, little guy," Quentin whispers, extending his two fingers. The cat comes forward, it's small face coming into the light. Surprisingly, the cat smells his fingers and then hisses loudly at him, the caramel and deep red hairs standing up on its back. Quentin looks oddly at the cat, "What?"

The cat notices a small patch of dandelions and pads over to it, reaching forward and pawing at them gently. "Did I offend you?"

Green eyes turn to him and it meows before turning back to the flowers, taking one in its mouth and biting. Quentin can't help but laugh, standing up. "Well then, I'll leave you to your flowers."

As he goes to leave, the cat runs up to him and runs into his calf, meowing softly. He laughs once more, leaning down and stroking the cat behind its ears. "Go on, enjoy the flowers. I'm sure your owner will be looking for you. You're kind of cute."

And it was. The cat is small in size with its ears perked up in the air. It's small face has long white whiskers, a patch of white on its forehead that matched its belly. The rest of the fur is a caramel shade of brown with flecks of blonde and deep maroon. It's paws has pink pads but white fur, like it had boots.

"Is your name Boots?"

The cat meowed once more, rolling over on it's stomach and playfully grabbing Quentin's hand with its claws. Quentin jumps before he laughs, rubbing the cats belly before standing up. "Well Boots, it was nice to meet you."

Quentin walks away, leaving the cat alone in the small yard to play with its dandelions. But when he turns around, he notices the familiar pair of green eyes aren't there anymore. Narrowing his eyes, he shrugs and decides it's time for bed.


	3. Chapter III

**Authors Note: So this chapter has a funny story. I actually had it completed last weekend, but apparently I didn't save it! This copy that you all are going to read (and love and review) is the second draft of what I had originally written! It came out a whole lot better, which I'm happy about, and I hope all of you are happy about it too!**

**Don't forget to follow me on tumblr! : aliceinamorata . tumblr . com**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Gazes of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

Although life seemed to pass by, Rachel Berry seemed to think that her life was moving as slow as the 'hello's' that she received in the hallways. Those weren't many, but when they did come, the words passed out of peoples mouths as slow as ever. Perhaps it was the winter months, and perhaps that people were too excited about Christmas or anxious about exams, but all the little Berry knew was that the Christmas Choral was coming up and she was the star.

So she had made flyers. Amazing flyers. Without magic. Thankfully her fathers were Muggles and they had sent her off to school with a laptop and printer, so she spent her luxurious time making the beautiful flyers that would attract more people to the Chorus. They needed new members since Santana had decided to draw pornographic pictures on the bathroom stalls and the main wall outside of the Great Hall. And they needed a lead male vocalist that could keep up with the tiny Diva. The group had all the females they could ever need, but the boys simply held their heads up too high to ever be conned into doing something as stupid as joining a Choir.

But Rachel Berry had a plan, oh yes, she had a plan. Surely all of the boys in the whole school would go to the first Quidditch Game of the season. Surely they would be in groups. That way, Rachel Berry could save some flyers as well as get the attention of all the male students in Hogwarts. She had decided to wear a shorter skirt than normal with some flats, getting rid of the normally childish tights she wore to show some leg. Wrapped in a heavy sweater and a scarf, she skipped into the Main Hall and sat beside Tina.

"Look what I made!" she exclaimed, putting a pile of flyers beside Tina. The Asian girl looked at the flyers over her cup of tea and smiled reassuringly.

"They're nice, Rachel…" she looked at the young girl, "but you're the main focus."

Rachel looked down at thy flyers once more. Yes, she was the main focus. Hell, her smiling face was in the middle of the damn flyer with golden stars surrounding her head. Then there were shadows of people behind her with the words, "Join the Choir!"

"Of course I am," Rachel smiled and took half of the flyers. "I'm the lead. Can you help me hand these out?"

"Well I ah -."

"Thanks Tina!" Rachel smiled brightly and patted her hand on the girls shoulder, "I knew I could count on you!" The Diva turned on her heels and walked quickly through the long hallway between the rows of seats. Behind her, Tina looked at the flyers and sighed as her boyfriend, Mike, sat down beside her in his red clad Quidditch Robes.

"What did she make you do this time?" Tina didn't even have to answer before his black eyes looked at the hefty stack of posters. "That probably used about ten rolls of parchment."

* * *

><p>Behind the thin sheath, Quentin leant against a sturdy pole while Brian held Santana in his arms. The two were beginning to make him sick, so he took a deep breath and pushed himself off of the pole. "Are you two done?"<p>

"Watch it, Fabray," Santana snapped, pulling away from Brian's warm embrace, "We needs our private time."

"It's not really private when it's in front of me." Quentin retaliated, crossing his arms over his chest. "The game is starting in less than five minutes and we're not going to find a seat if you two keep kissing and hugging like it's your last day on earth."

Santana sighed and looked up to Brian, "You go."

"No San, I'll stay here with you."

"No, go. I have to get my game on."

Santana gave Brian a smile, Quentin a classic death glance, before Quentin and Brian left the tent to be bombarded with flashes of yellow, red, blue and green. Brian stood close to Quentin, being a New York native he knew how to deal with crowds. So the two managed to climb the multiple staircases to the top of the seats and sat down, Brian wrapping himself tightly in his wool coat. Quentin sat down beside him, leaning forward and resting his forearms over the front side of the pitch, his leather jacket squeaking as he moved.

"So, San has a new Berry plan." Brian said calmly, looking to Quentin. Quentin kept his eyes on the center of the pitch, upon the three hoops, raising his eyebrows. "She wants to humiliate her at the Christmas thing."

Quentin didn't know what to say, but he didn't have to say anything because the game was beginning. The announcer introduced the players one by one, instructing the rules to those who didn't know the sport, and then the game kicked off. Brian keenly watched Santana playing her role as Keeper, glaring at anyone who dared to get the ball past her. Since her second year, she had the reputation of hitting the ball back into the person who tried to get it past her. Several times she had broken arms, ribs, and even made people throw up from the pain, but no one ever got in her way unless they were begging for pain.

The blonde boy only came to the games to support Brian, who got very protective of Santana while she was on the field. He got bored rather easily seeing the same thing every day since Brian made him come to practices when he didn't have a lot of work to do. Quentin found himself lying most of the time just to get out of it, but at the same time he wanted to support Brian (and kind of Santana) to the fullest of his abilities.

But now. He just had too much on his mind.

"Join the choir! Hey there cutie, wanna join the choir!"

"Fuck off, Berry."

Quentin's head snapped up as he felt a surge of rage boil through him. How dare they talk to her that way! He stood up, back straight and shoulders squared before people began to notice and stared. Brian as well looked at the shorter boy and raised an eyebrow.

Rachel stood there, actually shy and a little terrified, althernating between looking at Quentin and her shoes. She stammered, "H-hi Quentin…"

"Berry."

I need to make it look like I was mad at her, not the douchebag, Quentin thought.

"Do…do you want to join the choir?" Quentin melted when he saw how happy she became at that one word. "We need a male lead. And I'm sure you'll be able to fit in nicely!"

"Why are you here again?" Quentin crossed his arms, putting on his best cocky smirk as the Slytherins around him laughed. "Trying to get someone to come to the party with you?"

"No."

"Rachel, getting one of us to go to the party with you would mean that we're pedophiles. I mean, you dress like you're three."

Around him, the Slytherin's laughed and cheered at the statement, taking the flyers that she had handed out, crumpling them up and throwing them at her. Rachel's face fell, looking at the crumpled up works of art that she had spent hours making – making sure they were perfect – before bending down and picking them up. She picked up every piece of paper she had handed out and held them in her arms, looking at Quentin with miserable eyes before slowly descending down the stairs.

He watched her as she walked away, his heart beating a little bit faster. He knew it was wrong, and he knew that it hurt her, but something deep inside made it just a little bit okay to be mean to the girl.

You have to do what you have to do, right?

Then he saw the young girl climbing up the stairs to the Gryffindor stature, seeing her happily handing out flyers to everyone she saw. They welcomed her with open arms, some people even hugging her and nodding, smiling. He noticed how happy she looked when people agreed to join; Quentin himself even found a smile creeping up on his face.

* * *

><p>"Why am I doing this…if Santana finds out, I'm dead." Sigh. "I need to do this. I NEED to do this. I need -."<p>

"Hello, Quentin."

Quentin coughed, pushing his hands into the leather pockets, crossing one leg over another. "Hi Rachel."

She sighed, "Can I help you? I need to get these flyers over to the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands before the game is over and I need to hurry."

"Do…do you want help?"

He'd do anything to make her smile again. But once he saw it spread across her face, her luscious lips becoming thinner and her white teeth showing, he couldn't help but feel fulfilled. "REALLY?"

She began to jump up and down, eventually jumping on the young Fabray, hugging him tightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'll run some to the Hufflepuff stands. They're scared of Slytherins anyways. Let me see some, Rache."

Rachel took a hefty amount of the remaining pile, pushing it into Quentin's hands. "Make sure you tell them we need a male vocalist!" She began to run away before Quentin called after her. The petite brunette turned on her heels and looked at him, her hair flaring out from behind her as the wind combed it's fingers through the locks.

"…Can I take you up on that lead vocalist offer?"

He had never seen Rachel smile so big.

"Hey! You!" Quentin walked up to the small boy, glaring down at him with hazel eyes. "You sing?"

"Y-Yeah…"

He took one of the flyers and handed them to the first year, "The meeting is tomorrow. Show up."

"Okay! Thanks Mister!"

Quentin rolled his eyes, smiling at the ladies and glaring at the men before handing them a flyer. Most of the Hufflepuffs took them, smiling at Quentin and thanking him. But it wasn't until all of the flyers burst into flames that people began to scream.

Quentin noticed it when the last couple of papers he held began to smoke. The flyers he had handed out burst into flames, the coats also caught on fire and people had tossed them off of their bodies. Quentin's jacket was beginning to char from the heat of the papers, so he threw them into the air before they promptly burst into flames. He looked around with his hazel eyes, noticing it was just this one stand where the papers were burning. All of the other stands where Rachel or himself handed out flyers were fine, but when their eyes met, Rachel and Quentin, she looked hurt.

Quentin was just confused.

He looked up into the air and noted the charred papers coming down like rain. Rachel began to run down the steps of the Ravenclaw tower, running behind it and tripping over her own two feet. Quentin pushed through crowds and through professors as they tried to calm the mess, he even ran across the Quidditch pitch before promptly being interrupted by a flying Santana.

"Where you going, Fabray?"

Quentin sighed, trying to get out from the hands of Santana, but it wasn't working. "I'm trying to help her out, San. I'm a good person."

She laughed, "Good? You call fucking her in the library good? You call setting her hair on fire good? Where is all of this coming from, Fabray? You worry me."

"Santana, just get out of my way!" Quentin shouted, pressing a hand to her chest. Santana fell off of her broom, landing on her wrist as she hissed in pain. "I'm sick of your shit." Quentin seethed, turning on his heels and running after Rachel.

It wasn't until Quentin found Rachel leaning against the side of the bridge he had finally caught up with her; sweat running down his face and his hair plastered to his forehead. "Rachel…" breathe. "What happened…with those flyers..?"

"I don't know, Quentin." Rachel barked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Perhaps you can tell me?"

"What…" Quentin looked up from his bent down position, "You think I did that?"

Rachel nodded and Quentin scoffed.

"After I volunteered to help you, volunteered to sing with you, you think I'd…" then he shut up and realized what she was trying to say.

"You do this thing, Quentin. This very closely strategized plan to make me happy and then ruin my life. First year, you said you'd help me in Magical Creatures and then trained the creature to blow fire at me. Then in second year, in charms, you helped me master my fire charm and then set my hair on fire. This year, you…" she looked around, "you make love to me in the library, tell me you love me, and then let Santana draw those pictures of me. I'm not stupid!"

"I know you're not. But jeez…" Quentin put his hands on his head, standing up straight and sighing. "You wouldn't understand…"

"Understand what?" her tone was soft, monotone, and caring. But Quentin was finding himself getting angry and building up his aura once more.

"Forget it. Go hand out more of your stupid flyers." Quentin shoved his hands back in his pockets, walking slowly across the old bridge before turning back around. "And don't worry. I won't set them on fire."

He heard Rachel sigh and then choke back a sob before he quickened his pace. When he finally fell backwards on his bed, he thought about what he was just going to do.

He was going to give up his secret. Just for one girl. Who made him smile.


	4. Chapter IV

**Authors Note: RIGHT. So this was supposed to be posted last week, and I'm really sorry for the delay. I literally finished this chapter maybe ten minutes ago, ran through it quickly, then posted it on here. I am so, so, so sorry, everyone! Don't worry, I didn't forget the story. It's just this past week and last weekend were insainly busy for me and I didn't have time to sit down and write. If you follow me on Tumblr, you know I posted a quick video explaining whats going on. But yeah, I'm sorry and this chapter is longer than normal because you're all awesome!**

**Follow me on Tumblr!: aliceinamorata . tumblr . com**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

She lay awake on a night, staring at the carefully crocheted cloth draped over her bed. She would notice each and every stitch, remembering how her grandmother tried to teach her one time. For the little Rachel was only five and was intently curious how her Grandma had made her that beautiful pink hat with a star on it, so she sat there and let the old woman attempt to teach her.

"See, Rachey," she said, her voice slightly trembling. The woman had suffered a stroke weeks earlier and was still recovering, "You just do this…and this…"

"Gamma!" Rachel cried, stomping her patent mary janes on the floor. "I can't do it!"

"Of course you can , Rachel." The woman smiled, putting her needles and yarn down, cupping the little girls face in her hands. "You're a Berry. And Berry's can do anything they put their heart into."

Rachel smiled at the old memory, but then frowned when she realized that was Christmas Eve. The following morning, Rachel woke up to find her two fathers crying on the couch, surrounded by wrapped presents that were begging to be opened. The little girl had run down the stairs, jumping up and down. "Presents! Presents!"

"Baby girl…sit down," her father, Leroy, gently spoke to her. "We need to tell you something."

At five years old, it's hard to comprehend death. Rachel admits to herself she didn't understand why Grandma wasn't waking up and why she was cold. She didn't understand why Grandma had blue lipstick on and wore too much powder. She didn't know why she didn't respond at her touch or why the room smelt odd. But as she reaches the age of eighteen, she now understands death.

She understands things that ordinary people don't understand.

Simply because she's been exposed to too much.

She's been exposed to beautiful Christmases that eventually turned to dust. She remembers walking into the house on Christmas Eve after doing last minute shopping, smelling the meatless vegan lasagna that her Daddy cooked. She smelt the steamed vegetables tossed in a luscious garlic sauce that accompanied that lasagna. And for the non-vegan guests of the hour, there was a large ham coated in a sweet orange glaze. Rachel always cringed when she saw her Aunts and Uncles eating the poor sliced pig, but it only made her crave her lasagna more.

But slowly the beautiful Christmases vanished. No more home made lasagna – it was replaced with some vegan egg substitute with salt and pepper. Her father didn't try on Christmas anymore once his father died; he simply sat in front of the TV, staring at the moving screen and somewhat wishing that his father would reach out for him once more.

And Hiram, he would be working in the kitchen trying to make Christmas somewhat bearable. He would smile at Rachel and offer her a vegan cookie with green icing on it – in the shape of a star of course. He would tell her that people would be over soon and to change, but when Rachel turned around to head back up to her room, she would look at Leroy and sigh.

"Daddy, why is he always like this on Christmas?"

Hiram turned to Rachel, "He just misses Grandpa, baby girl. Now go change."

Rachel found herself tossing and turning in her blue covers and eventually ripped them off of her. Sliding her feet into her golden slippers, she slowly crept down the stairs and walked into the common room. Sighing, she opened a novel and read.

* * *

><p>Quentin felt his heart beating in his chest. His breath becoming heavier.<p>

It's a dream, he thought. It's a dream. I need to wake up.

But he couldn't.

He was pinned down to a gurney, nurses looking down at him with smirking faces. Above him, the ceiling was a bright white and his eyes flinched as a bright red light was flashed into his face. A nurse grabbed his arm, slamming it down and tying it down. The rope was tied tight, cutting off circulation to his hands.

They felt cold and dead within seconds.

Another nurse did the same on his opposite arm and then his legs, pulling them apart.

He was concealed over his chest and between his legs; he could feel the air rushing around him – it stabbed his body.

The gurney started to turn colder, colder, freezing. His body stuck to the gurney and he had no option to run now. With his head thrashing from side to side, he tried to scream out for help but he couldn't.

In the real world, Quentin wanted to scream but his dream had him clenched in its hands.

"Are we ready for the operation..?" A voice spoke. Quentin tried to sit up but he couldn't, but he knew that voice.

"Dad? Dad! What are you doing here! Dad!"

"Hush, Q. Let me take care of you." The masked man that sounded like Quentin's father turned to the nurse, "Give me the scalpel."

"Dad!"

Quentin's hazel eyes watched as the nurse handed the man, Russell, a large knife. "That's not a scalpel, but it'll do." Russell smirked, looking to his son and holding the knife upwards over his head. "Take a deep breath, Q. This will only hurt a bit."

A large smirk spread over his face as Quentin screamed, feeling the knife pierce through his chest, through his sternum, into his heart. He saw a flash of white followed by the taste of blood welling up in his mouth. Turning to the side, the nurse watched as a stream of blood poured out of Quentin's pink lips, his eyes softening before turning a bright yellow.

"It's okay, Quentin.." she whispered, pulling the mask off. Judy Fabray looked into her sons eyes. "It'll all be over soon."

Real time once more, Quentin screamed a blood-curdling scream in the middle of his dormitory. Everyone woke up, noticing the blonde coated in a cold sweat, chest rising and falling violently. Brian looked to Quentin, "Are you okay?"

Quentin nodded, taking a couple deep breaths, reliving the dream over and over again. "Y-Yeah…fine…"

Brian raised an eyebrow, "I may be dumb at times, but I'm not stupid."

"I'll be fine," Quentin sighed, ripping the covers off of him, "I just need some air."

Brian nodded, not giving the boy any second glances as he fled down the steps, through the common room and into the castle.

That dream, he thought, why am I having it again?

He padded through the abandoned cooridors with a lit wand in hand to guide the way. Though he knew the ins and outs of the castle, Quentin found himself walking in circles with thoughts running through his head.

This doesn't make sense, he thought once more, turning a corner and walking to the gently lit bridge. It rattled beneath his soft steps, gently cracking when he stepped too hard. Going outside of the castle after curfew was forbidden, but Quentin just had to think.

I haven't had that dream in about, he stops to think, seven or eight years now?

Another turn led him to the garden outside of the Herbology classroom. He let himself fall to the ground, surrounded in the cool, dewy grass.

Why is my mind getting nervous all of a sudden?

Quentin merely sighed, leaning up with his legs outstretched in front of him. He smiled to himself noticing the small cat he had seen days earlier. "Hey there.." The cat had obviously noticed him; it was staring at him with wide, green eyes; standing its ground, surrounded with small flowers that yet towered over the tiny cat.

"You know, I know almost everyone in this place and I still have no idea who you belong to." Quentin spoke, reaching his hand out to gently coax the cat into coming near. The small cat was apprehensive, gently taking one step before backing away.

It meowed and Quentin reached out slightly further. "I won't hurt you."

Then, happily, the cat trotted over and nuzzled its face into Quentin's hand. He scratched the cat beneath its chin, making it pur in delight. A laugh erupted from his throat when the cat rolled onto its back, gently clawing at Quentin's hand. "You're playful tonight, aren't you?"

The cat meowed in reply before Quentin pulled away, merely looking at the cat. "I wonder what it's like…you know, being like you." Tilting its head to the side, the cat peered up at Quentin with curious eyes. "Like, just watching everything happen around you… do you understand what goes on?" Another tilt of the head. "Can you think?"

With two blinks, the cat walked over to the flowers once more, raising its paw to gently claw at the petals. "I think things are better that way. If you can't think, you can't worry."

The cat looked back at Quentin and saw him walking away. It cocked its head to the side and trotted quickly over to him, meowing and rubbing its body against his leg. Quentin smiled softly, leaning down and running his nails through its fur.

"I can't name you. It means I'm too attached."

* * *

><p>Santana sighed, sitting on Brian's bed as Quentin tightened his tie around his neck. "Why are you doing this again?"<p>

Quentin turned around, looking at Santana before crossing his arms. "Look, I feel bad for her, okay?"

"Why? She's a dwarf who thinks she's God's gift to the universe. You can do better than that, Quentin."

"Why are you all of a sudden being so nice?" Quentin looked at the Latino oddly, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and buttoning the center. "I mean, normally you're threatening me."

"My Christmas present to you is being nice for the day." Santana stood up, smiling. Or sneering.

A Santana Smile is normally a combination of the two.

"Okay…" Quentin gave himself one more check in the mirror, pulling at his coat to make it more comfortable. "It's nice when you're being nice. I feel like we're kids again."

"Yeah, like we're kids…" Santana said to herself before Quentin offered her his arm. Guiding her downstairs, Brian waited patiently for the two. He too extended his arm to the Latino before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"You look beautiful, San." Brian commented, looking at the girls ironic red dress.

There was a theme for Christmas Dances: Black, white, red or green clothes only.

Quentin thought it was stupid, but he abided by the rules anyways because he was in the choir. So suited in a pair of black pants, a crisp white shirt, black dress jacket and a red tie, he walked through the grand doors of the Great Hall only to be surprised with the most beautiful scene he's seen in all his years at Hogwarts.

The ceilings were manipulated to portray a winter night sky – dark blue with silver stars winking in appreciation. There were no clouds in sight, but three feet from the ceiling, snow cascaded down only to disappear with a whisper. A large tree was centered in the middle of the room; an icy white color with red and green ball ornaments hanging from the sides. Around it were fake presents, colored gold and black to highlight the most delicate features of the tree. Silver stars also hung from the walls, shining with every turn, and Quentin couldn't help but feel he was in amidst a winter wonderland.

"Wow…" he breathed, his eyes glancing all around him. Even Santana was in shock for a couple seconds before grabbing Brian's hand and suggesting they find a place to make out.

"Well, well!"

Quentin turned his head and smiled, noticing a rather cheery Rachel Berry running up to him. "What do you think? Pretty good for a days work, right?"

"You did this, Rachel?" Quentin questioned, surprised. "It must have taken a lot of work."

"Not really," Rachel smiled, clasping her hands in front of her, "I mean, the tree isn't real, it came in this morning. Then people levitated the ornaments and the angel on top," she raised a finger and pointed it out, "Of course, the music will be playing in the background and the stars we also ordered. It only took this morning to put everything together. And Mr. Schue enchanted the ceilings just an hour ago."

"It's…nice," Santana said, looking down at her, "For a hobbit."

Quentin rolled his eyes, but Rachel smiled softly and looked up at Quentin. "Shall we? The song begins at promptly seven. Help yourselves to some pumpkin juice and punch."

"Punch?" Brian asked, "Why would we want to punch ourselves?"

"Brian…" Quentin sighed, "Punch is an American-Muggle term for this drink made with different fruits."

"I made it like my mother did," Rachel commented, "It's sherbet that has melted. Yummy!" She smiled happily, taking Quentin's hand. "See you guys later!"

Quentin felt a zap of electricity course through his veins before Rachel had closed the door behind them. The room behind the Great Hall was small and it had many odds and ends in it. Within it, the whole choir was speaking avidly about their Christmas vacations. Quentin then felt elated to go home and see his family for the two weeks.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" he asked, sitting down beside the girl. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured to the drink in her hand.

"Oh, this?" she raised the cup, "It's lukewarm tea with honey. And I'm staying here for the two weeks. I can get some work done and relax."

"You don't want to go home?"

Rachel shook her head, looking downward, "Hogwarts is my home."

"Alright everyone!" Quentin and Rachel's heads snapped up to look at the petite professor in front of him. He too was clad in the appropriate dress, as well as a rather large smile. "Gather 'round, gather 'round."

Rachel downed the rest of her drink before standing beside Quentin, smiling happily up at him.

He never knew how much music meant to her.

"Now, I'm sure all of you remember the set list, we begin…"

"Hey Rachel?" Quentin whispered, leaning down and looking at her. Rachel peered up at him, tilting her head to the side. "You look really nice."

She blushed, gesturing down to her outfit. It was nothing special; she was clad in a red knit sweater, long sleeved, that came down to her hips. Upon the sweater was a white reindeer – it made Quentin snicker. Her skirt was a black and white plaid, short, and on her feet were a pair of silver flats. It broke the dress code, but Quentin thought it was her. "I don't see you out of uniform much."

Rachel shrugged, "People make fun of the way I dress. That's why." Then she smiled, "But I am who I am. I won't change it."

"Now let's go!" The professor cheered, clapping commencing before the doors opened. Quentin felt his heart race as the hundreds of Hogwarts students clapped for their arrival. In front of him, he watched Rachel smile happily and wave back, Tina giggling at the girls outgoing nature. Inwardly, Quentin felt himself smiling as he took his place beside Rachel.

"Quentin?" she whispered, noticing the professor raising his arms. "Thanks."

Quentin smiled as notes began to fly out of his mouth, singing in tune with everyone else. Their opening rendition of 'Most Wonderful Day of the Year' earned cheers and whistles alike, but that was the number that came before Rachel's version of 'O Holy Night.'

She stepped forward once the hall was quiet, looking in front of her with her head held high. Her hands were promptly at her sides, back straight. The piano began to sound, it's beautiful melody almost putting Quentin to sleep. Rachel then began to sing,

"O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,  
>It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.<br>Long lay the world in sin and error pining,  
>'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth."<p>

Quentin watched her carefully, watching her sing. Yet, she was not simply singing. It was as if she was physically wounding herself and bleeding her heart and soul out to those who watched her. He watched emotion fall over her features, tears threatening her eyes, and as one fell, Quentin held back to reach forward and hold her.

"A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,  
>For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.<br>Fall on your knees! O hear the angels' voices!  
>O night divine, O night when Christ was born;<br>O night divine, O night, O night Divine."

Santana wasn't stupid. She saw the way Quentin watched her sing, the way he smiled as she bounded up to him earlier. She had to stop what was beginning to form. Anger seething through her veins, the Slytherin slowly pulled Brian's wand out of his coat jacket, pressing a kiss on his cheek to divert his attention. He wrapped his arms tightly her, pressing a kiss back to her lips. Inside, Santana smirked: ultimate revenge.

"Truly He taught us to love one another;  
>His law is love and His gospel is peace.<br>Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;  
>And in His name all oppression shall cease.<br>Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,  
>Let all within us praise His holy name."<p>

As he watched her perform, he did smile. He felt warmth wash over his whole body, his cheeks turning red. Was this what love felt like? No, never love, he thought. This is too fast for me.

Shaking his head to himself, he looked to Santana who smiled at him and waved. Brian waved too.

And Santana, he thought, she has something up her sleeve. Something isn't right with her today. She's being too nice.

And then Rachel belted, earning claps and cheers in her favor.

"Fall on your knees! O hear the angels' voices!  
>O night divine, O night when Christ was born;<br>O night divine, O night, O night Divine."

Every person in the great hall stood to their feet, some people on the verge of tears, clapping their hands together until they were red and raw. The choir clapped as well, Tina walking up to Rachel to hug her. Quentin watched the scene, smiling to himself and winking at the singer when their eyes met.

And then the scene unfolded slowly.

Rachel pulling away to walk forward and bow to the students and faculty of Hogwarts.

Clapping, cheering. Smiling.

Then there was a flick of a wand.

And silence. A cry out.

And then laugher.

Rachel looked down, shocked, seeing that her skirt now lay on the ground. Her panties were revealed, her virginal white panties that earned laughs instead of cheers. Her first instinct: to run. But the decision was not the best, for the young girl tripped and fell off of the higher ground, landing on her face.

Quentin rushed to her aide as people continued to laugh, taking off his coat and covering her below the belt. A few yards away, a smirking Santana laughed with the others, Brian looking at her confused.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Quentin asked, wrapping her up in his coat. The young Berry stood up, pulling up her skirt and pushing him away. Blood now stained the white reindeer that was upon her sweater, fresh blood sill running down her lips and chin.

"Don't play stupid!" She cried, cupping her hand around her nose. In pain, she winced, "I should have never given you another chance."

Two professors escorted Rachel to the Hospital Wing where her nose was pronounced broken. Immediately, she had to be sent home.

That was the first time Rachel ever dreaded going home to her family.

* * *

><p>"You did this!" Quentin screamed, Santana looking up at him, smirking. "How could you!"<p>

"I did nothing. Her skirt was simply too loose. Not my fault the girl is a midget."

"We're done, Santana." Quentin hissed, looking down at her. Brian looked at Quentin.

"But…we're the Unholy Trinity. You can't break us up."

Quentin glared at Brian, "Watch me."

And he turned on his heels, walking quickly out of the Great Hall. Santana called after him, "Your secret is done for, Fabray!"

Quentin didn't hear that last part. He would have turned back if he did.

* * *

><p>Going home to Lima was Rachel's biggest fear. It wasn't her family or the underdone Christmases, it was her father, Leroy, who she slowly watched waste away over the years.<p>

Thankfully when she was accepted into Hogwarts, she only had to spend the summers home. Not even that if Tina's parents were happy to have her for the three months, but the months when Tina couldn't have her, the trip home was much dreaded.

She smelt the vegan-egg substitute and the chopped vegetables. The vegan lasagna was now too expensive since Leroy had lost his job. Hiram was working in the kitchen as the girl padded down the stairs and into the living room where her father sat.

It smelt like alcohol.

"Daddy?" Leroy raised his head to speak to his daughter before he noticed that she meant the other one. In the kitchen, Hiram turned to his daughter and smiled.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Have um.." she motioned her head towards the other room, indicating her other father. "You gone to see someone about him?"

Hiram sighed, pulling the eggs off of the pan and piling them on a large plate. Rachel grabbed the salt and pepper, seasoning them to her liking before taking a bite.

Moving her lips hurt her nose a little bit, but now that the doctor had set it back in place, it seemed to slowly be getting better. But she still had to wear a brace on it.

"I need to tell you something, sweetie." Hiram took her daughters hand and lead her into the living room. Leroy looked up at the man with disgust, and then at his daughter with adoring eyes. "We need to tell her, Leroy."

"You tell her," Leroy spat, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm not hurting my daughter."

"She's our daughter, Leroy. Not just yours." Hiram motioned to Rachel to take a seat; she did apprehsnively, but with her eyes darting between the two, she couldn't help but be caught in the web of tension.

"Baby…your father and I have made a decision."

Rachel felt her stomach sink.

"We can't work things out."

The tears began to well up in her eyes. A knot in her throat.

"We've filed for divorce."

And then the tears fell harder than ever before.


	5. Chapter V

**Authors Note: Hello everyone! I just want to apologize about the slight wait on this update. As you know, I normally update every weekend, but this weekend was kinda hetic so I wasn't able to sit down and write a chapter for you guys. Sorry it's a little late, but you know what, compared to my other stories, this is better than nothing!  
>I love all of you guys! Thank you for all of the feedback and following! You're all awesome :)<br>Alice Inamorata**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

"…What?" Rachel gasped. Her palms were sweating, creating a thin layer of film between them clasped tightly in her lap. Inside of her, she felt her heart speeding up. Was this real life?

"Honey," Hiram soothed, placing a hand on his daughters forearm, "I know this is hard to process, but it's for the best."

Rachel had no choice but to nod. She didn't want to have an outburst – that would make her fathers nervous and send her to therapy again. She didn't want to stomp up to her room and slam the door because that would create tension the moment she decided to emerge. In all honesty, Rachel didn't know what to think; she knew it was for the best, hell, it was for the best, but Rachel had never prepared for this ultimatum. She thought that her fathers would go to therapy and patch things up, but obviously, things weren't that simple.

"Y-yeah…I know." She nodded again, keeping her eyes locked on the carpet. "Well, it's your decision. You two need to work things out whatever way you can."

"Honey, we don't want to get you involved." Leroy stated, taking a sip of his beer. Next to Rachel, Hiram cringed and the girl felt it. Anger began to boil inside of her.

_You don't want to get me involved? You had me involved the moment you grabbed your first beer._

"Yes," Hiram sighed, rubbing Rachel's arm. It was hot now, slightly sticky from the sweat that was beginning to ooze out of her pores. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"Or me." Leroy stepped in, snapping his head to his daughter. "You can talk to me or him."

"Would you stop..?" Rachel pleaded, looking at her father across the room with sad eyes, "Stop making me choose between you and him. It's childish."

"I never said I was making you choose, Rachel," Leroy stated, motioning his hand to the side. "I was stating you could talk to me or him."

"Well," Rachel began, standing up and smoothing out her skirt, "You're making him seem inferior. And that's making yourself look better. Which obviously, you're not if you're sitting there sipping your cheap beer on Christmas Eve."

"Excuse me?" Leroy stood up, placing the drink aside. He stood firm in front of the tiny Rachel Berry, his brown eyes leering down at her.

"You're the one who feels inferior." She stated strongly. Behind her, Hiram shook in fear, but he knew he couldn't stop her. She was a Berry. And a strong one at that. "You need to get over yourself and think of your family. You need to think of me." She pointed her index finger to her chest, "And obviously I'm not that important to you."

She turned on her heels, marching up the stairs as Leroy yelled after her.

"You get back here young lady! Rachel Barbra Berry! You get back here! I am your father!"

Rachel turned back to him on the staircase, "No you're not. My father died a long time ago."

She proceeded to march up the stairs with as little attitude as possible, but when she door shut behind her, she collapsed onto her bed. Wrapping her arms around the pink pillow, she pushed her face as far as possible into it.

And she slowly let a scream emerge from her throat, rippling against her lips and into the pillow. But slowly, that scream became a plead – a cry. Her body rattled with such emotion that she, Rachel Berry, could not even contain.

* * *

><p>The flight was endurable, but Quentin didn't even think he would be on yet another flight once he got home.<p>

"Quentin, honey," Judy Fabray called, pulling her pink luggage down the stairs. Quentin had just collapsed on the couch after arriving home, only to have to pick up his bags once more and board another flight. "We're going to Lima."

Quentin looked at his mother, who peered down at him sweetly with a gentle smile. She had the same eyes at Quentin, but he had the facial expressions of his father. The boy began to seethe with anger before snapping out of it, looking back up at his mother.

"Why are we going to Lima?" Quentin asked, sitting up slowly; his back and legs ached from being cramped in a flight for two hours. "Are we going to see Fran?"

Judy nodded, smiling at her youngest child, "Yes! We're going to spend the Christmas holiday there. She invited us the other day, but for some reason I had a hard time sending Aveena to Hogwarts to send you the letter." Judy looked over to the window where a small, brown and white owl sat on a perch. It hooted in delight, seeming rather fond of its idea to disregard the favor Judy had asked.

The blonde rolled her eyes, placing a reassuring hand on Quentin's shoulder, "And your father won't be there, Q. It'll just be Frannie, Christian, Dahlia, you and I."

Quentin beamed, "And Storm."

Judy shook her head as Quentin slowly sat up and grabbed his Hogwarts trunk. "The husky doesn't count as a guest."

Quentin narrowed his eyes, "He doesn't like you because you don't consider him family. That's why he growls at you."

"And he loves you because you always sneak him turkey under the table."

"Well, Frannie needs to learn how to cook."

* * *

><p>"Mum?"<p>

"Yes, Quentin?"

"Are we there yet?"

Judy sighed.

"We just got on the flight."

"…how about now?"

"No, Quentin."

* * *

><p>"Mum?"<p>

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

"You just had a jam and jelly sandwich."

"…yeah…"

Judy sighed again.

* * *

><p>"Mum?"<p>

"Quentin. Shut. Up."

* * *

><p>"Mum!" Frannie squealed, running towards her mother and hugging her tightly. Judy Fabray laughed, wrapping her thin arms around her oldest daughter. Quentin tagged behind, smiling to himself, slightly worried at the meeting.<p>

"Hello dear," Judy cooed, cupping her daughters face in her hands, kissing her forehead. "Hi Christian!" As Judy walked to Frannie's husband, Frannie took a look at Quentin and smiled, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

"You look amazing," Frannie whispered, running her hand against Quentin's cheek. "You're all grown up…and you have stubble!"

Quentin laughed, "You did move away two years ago." He wrapped his older sister in a hug, kissing her cheek. "I've missed you."

Frannie nodded, "I've missed you too, regardless of what Dad has told you."

Quentin's face fell.

"I didn't believe him," Frannie said quickly, placing a hand on Quentin's shoulder, "I believe Mom over him. So don't worry."

Quentin didn't even want to know what his father had said about him, but he knew it wasn't good by Frannie's tone. So when she wrapped her arm through his, hugging her little brother like it was the first time, she guided him over to Christian who was stood beside his daughter, Dahlia. The little girl looked up at Quentin with curious, blue eyes that matched her fathers perfectly. She had Frannie's golden locks and facial structure, but her fathers perfect eyes and smile.

"Dahlia," Frannie spoke, kneeling down to her daughters level, "This is Uncle Quentin. He's coming to visit for Christmas."

The girl must have been around two years old – Quentin did the math to make sure he was correct. So he too knelt down in front of the girl, pulling something out of his pocket: it was a small, keychain with a lion on it. He knew it was Gryffindor's animal, but he thought a snake would be too terrifying.

Dahlia slowly stepped away, holding onto her mother's hand tightly. "It's okay baby," Frannie comforted, rubbing her daughters back.

Quentin took the time to notice how adorable Dahlia looked in her thickly padded parka.

"It's a lion, see?" Quentin spoke, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was never good with children. "Isn't it cute?"

Dahlia slowly reached out, touching the glittering red-and-gold lion, "Lion."

Frannie smiled at Quentin, nudging her head towards Dahlia. "His name is…Garth."

The little girl let go of her mothers hand, walking forward to take the glittering item from her Uncles hand. After examining it and making sure it was good enough, she smiled up at Quentin happily.

"Thank yoo."

"You're welcome."

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry sighed, "I hate my life."<p>

"Don't say that, baby." Hiram said, stirring the roasted potatoes. "He still loves you."

"And why do we need to celebrate Christmas?" Rachel cried, pacing back and fourth on the tiled floor, the heel of her shoes clicking. "I don't know if you know this, Daddy, but we're Jewish."

Hiram laughed, bending down to put the potatoes back in the oven. He had this thing where he made most of the food the night before Christmas Eve so there was no hustle and bustle the actual day.

"Baby, I know we're Jewish." He took off his oven mitts and placed them next to the stove. "Why are you being so difficult today?"

Rachel sighed, crossing her arms and popping her hip to the side. "I don't know, why do you think I'm being so difficult?"

"Your father loves you, Rachel. And so don't I. We simply couldn't work out our differences, that's all."

"Yeah, but you tried!" She looked into the other room, "And where is he anyways? Going out to get more booze?"

Hiram looked at his daughter with a serious intent, glaring his eyes at her. Rachel knew better than to insult that look, but her arms remained crossed and her hip cocked to the side. "He's not even trying."

"He's trying with you."

"No he's not!"

"Rachel Berry."

Rachel sighed, throwing her arms to the side and grabbing her coat. Hiram walked out of the kitchen to follow, watching the girl shove her slender arms into the coat pockets. He laughed to himself, _my daughter is seventeen and is wearing a bright pink parka with stars on it. I'm still wondering how we managed to buy that for her._

"Baby, where are you going?"

"For a walk." She pulled on her snow boots, wrapped a scarf around her neck and slid her fingers into a pair of gloves.

"Put on a hat too."

"I like the snow in my hair."

She heard Hiram sigh as she closed the door behind her. Looking around, she realized how truly alone she was in the world. The only friends she had were Tina and Mark, perhaps Quentin, but she didn't know about him. His last stunt at the Christmas Chorale was putting her in a foul mood pertaining to the boy, but she had a strong feeling that there was something up with Quentin Fabray.

And there was something up with her home life as well, but she always knew that. Step by step, she left her footprints embedded in the white gush of snow only to be covered up by the flurry of falling snowflakes. She didn't know whether to be angry with her life, or be sad and depressed. She didn't know whether to move on from the tragedy, from her broken nose that still had a brace on it, or to just let the situation go and never resolve it.

She kicked the fluffy material, watching it fall around her. The house was far down the street now – she could see it because it was the only house really decked out with Christmas decorations. Hiram at least wanted to portray that they celebrated Christmas, but he also did it because his sister and mother didn't necessarily agree with their Jewish ways.

Across the street, she heard doors slamming and her head turned quickly to the side. Out of the car climbed a cute little girl in a purple parka, jumping up and down and holding what looked like a keychain. She exclaimed happily, "Ucle Quen! I wanna show yoo my room!"

"Okay, okay, Dahlia."

_That voice…_Rachel thought, her eyes now glued to the scene. An older girl climbed out of the car, Rachel guessing that it was the little girls mother, as well as the father who climbed out of the drivers seat. A much older woman, probably being the grandmother but didn't look like it, followed but preceded her son, who extended his legs and pulled himself out of the car.

Rachel felt her breath being caught in her throat, making a large bump of air that she couldn't breathe out or swallow. She watched the scene in front of her – watching as Quentin sweetly smiled and wrapped the little girl up in his arms before turning and noticing Rachel.

She didn't know whether to run or say hello and wave. But she knew better. She knew he noticed the brace on her nose and the bruises that surrounded her eyes. He put Dahlia down, saying something to her sweetly and giving her a kiss before slowly beginning to walk towards the petite witch.

Rachel slowly began to back away as Quentin got near, "Rachel, we need to talk."

"No." She replied, accidentally slipping on a patch of ice before quickly regaining her balance, still walking backwards. "I gave you a chance and you screwed it up." She breathed. "Happy Christmas, Quentin."

Quentin watched as she turned and ran, her face turning pink in the winter frost. He watched the breath escape her mouth and turn into vapor. He watched the speck of darkness turn and walk into a house that was lit up with Christmas decorations.

The blonde sighed to himself, noticing a small blonde pulling on his jean pocket. He reached down and picked up Dahlia, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "D, this is going to be a very eventful holiday."

"You tawk funny!"

All Quentin could do was laugh.


	6. Chapter VI

**Authors Note: So this chapter is shorter because you guys got a chapter update like, five days ago. I need to stop spoiling you guys! So in order to make up for the spoiling, I decided to torture you in this chapter! MWAHAHAHA.**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

It was Christmas morning once again – seventeen years of Christmas mornings and presents lying beneath the tree. Rachel's were always wrapped in pink paper with flecks of silver and gold. It was a metaphor, she always said, and metaphors are always important. As she padded down the stairs in her night shirt and slippers, she noticed that there weren't any presents there this year. The stockings were filled to the brim, the smell of last nights dinner still loomed in the air, but the perfectly wrapped presents were invisible and it made Rachel feel unsettled.

"Why…" Rachel let her hand slide down the railing, her slippers landing on the tan carpet. She walked to the Christmas tree and sat down, fingering the pricks of pine that fell off at her touch. It smelt wonderful.

_I don't mean to seem spoiled, but where are the presents?_

"Rachel?"

Her head snapped up, noticing Hiram slowly walking down the stairs. His expression was exhausted; his eyes slightly drooping and his mouth curved downward. Rachel immediately knew he had a hard time sleeping last night, but she didn't know why.

"Daddy?" she replied, looking at him with curious eyes. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and motioned for Rachel to sit down, "You're probably wondering where the gifts are, huh?" He chuckled slightly as Rachel slowly settled herself onto the couch. She sunk down into the plush material, slightly toying with the hem of her night shirt. "The money was drained in our account…'our' meaning your father and my account."

Rachel nodded.

"He drained it on alcohol. And I got mad at him last night because…we didn't have anything to give you," Hiram's voice cracked as he wrapped his hand around his mouth to stabilize his jaw. "We got into a fight and he left."

"Left?" Rachel questioned, looking at her father. Hiram nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks as Rachel rose to her feet and then fell to her knees, hugging her father closely. At that moment, she didn't care about Christmas.

She only cared about her father. No one else.

* * *

><p>Dahlia threw the stuffed Pikachu into the air, catching it enthusiastically before tossing it into the air once more. The little girl had taken a liking to playing catch by herself and Quentin had no objections; she was simply too cute - Quentin grabbed Frannie's camera, taking pictures of the little girls escapade.<p>

"Uncle Kentin!" Dahlia cried, smiling happily.

She had gotten better at pronouncing his name.

"Look at my 'kichu!" she smiled happily, taking the large stuffed animal and pushing it into Quentin's face. Quentin laughed, feeling exhausted but energized at the same time thanks to Dahlia. She had woken up at three in the morning, first waking up him and then her parents and grandmother. Judy sat at the table in the kitchen with Frannie and her husband, sipping tea slowly.

Pikachu rubbed against Quentin's stubble, slightly charring the soft fur, but Dahlia didn't mind. Quentin just kept laughing, climbing off of the sofa and sitting on the floor with Dahlia. He didn't get much for Christmas, a couple simple things as well as a new Xbox and some games, but other than that, not much. He just felt lucky he was able to get out of England and spend time with his family.

"Your Pikachu is very cute." Quentin said, smiling and giving the stuffed animal a kiss, handing it back to Dahlia. Dahlia smiled happily, clutching the Pikachu so tight in her arms that the poor thing looked like it was suffocated.

_I would feel horrible if that thing was a rabbit or puppy, _Quentin thought.

"Hey Quentin, come here." Frannie called, poking her head out into the living room. Dahlia made a face when Quentin left her, but she continued to somewhat torture her new play thing.

"Yeah?" Quentin crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps tightening and his back straight. Judy raised her eyes to look at her son.

"Who was that girl you were talking to yesterday?"

Quentin froze.

Judy continued, "The little one in the pink parka. Is she from school?"

Quentin merely nodded, "Yeah."

"Rachel?" Frannie chimed in, looking at Quentin. "Brown hair, brown eyes? Yeah, she watches Dahlia when Christian and I go out for the night. She's a sweetie. Dahlia loves it when she sings her to sleep."

"She sings?" Judy questioned, looking up at Quentin, "Is she a nice girl, Q?"

"She's nice, Mum."

"Do you like her?"

"Mum!" Quentin cried, a red flush washing over his features. Judy cried out, laughing.

"Aww! How sweet! Why don't you go see her?"

Quentin shook his head, "You don't get it, Mum."

"Uncle 'Kentin!" Dahlia yelled, running up to him, "Play Barbie with me!"

_I go from making one girl run away from me to another wanting to play Barbie with me. Should I be Barbie or Ken? Perhaps Stacy or Skipper? _Quentin shook his head. _My childhood is catching up with me._

* * *

><p>"Excuse me," Quentin asked, the woman behind the desk looking up at him curiously. "Where would I find the Vice Building?"<p>

The woman looked up and down at Quentin, nodding and pursing her lips. She reached to the side and grabbed a pamphlet for him, "This center may be different to the one you're used to in England." Quentin nodded. "You're going to take the elevator to the third level and then take a left. There will be a woman at the desk who will direct you to Dr. Gadd. She's a great woman."

Quentin took the pamphlet and smiled, thanking the woman quietly. He followed the directions, standing in the elevator and tapping his foot to the solemn elevator music. Frannie had given him the address of the facility, the name of the doctor she had seen and everything else. The place was clean yet bright. The walls were painted in bright colors like red, purple, green and yellow; the halls were filled with photos of happy individuals with smiling faces. Quentin felt like he belonged here, but wasn't sure about this doctor.

"I'm here to see Dr. Gadd," he spoke, running a hand through his hair. The young man behind the counter nodded, looking up at him. "I have a five-thirty appointment."

He nodded once more, "You too?"

It took a second for Quentin to realize what he meant before he nodded, "Yeah, me too."

"You look great, man." The man shook Quentin's hand and smiled, "Take a seat."

Quentin took a seat, crossing one leg over the other and bouncing it quickly. He didn't know what he was doing here, but hell, he felt uncomfortable.

"_Okay, what's going on with you and Rachel?" Frannie had asked, sitting down next to him. In front of them, Dahlia was still choking her innocent Pikachu, squealing and laughing. Quentin didn't know how the little girl entertained herself so well. When he was little, all he did was scream for attention._

"_Do you really want to know?" Quentin asked, looking at his sister. She nodded and he sighed. "I like her, she's a great person. But Santana keeps sabotaging everything and ruining her life…and I get tagged along for the ride."_

"_Have you ever considered telling San to back off?" Quentin looked down. "I mean, I know she's your best mate but she needs to let things go if you have feelings for Rachel."_

"_She'll tell the school if I tell her back off." _

"_Tell the school what?"_

_Quentin just looked at Frannie and she gasped. "Seriously?"_

_Quentin nodded, "Yeah."_

"_Well…how about you beat Santana to it?" Frannie somewhat smirked, patting her little brothers knee. "Tell Rachel before her. If you plan on being serious with her, she needs to know."_

And that's how he ended up here. In an odd therapy room which he vowed at a young age to avoid. It had been forever since he had seen a therapist, but Frannie said good things about Dr. Gadd, so he thought he would take a chance at it.

"So you're Quentin Fabray," Dr. Gadd said, smiling and sitting across from him. She had deep red hair and a pale complexion, thin figure but with wider hips. Quentin found her somewhat attractive. "Fran told me a lot about you."

Quentin nodded.

"I understand this may bring back memories for you, Quentin. But I'm here to help you with something?" she questioned, reaching forward onto the coffee table and grabbing a clipboard. "What can I help you with?"

Quentin took a deep breath, zipping the zipper on his leather jacket up and down slowly. "There's this girl I like…and she's amazing. It's just my best friend keeps making her life hell and threatening that if I run off with her, she'll tell the whole school about…well…you know…"

"And how does this make you feel?"

Quentin sighed.

"I get it." Dr. Gadd nodded, scribbling down some notes. "Do you trust this girl?"

"Surprisingly, I do…it's just I don't want her to run away once she finds out."

"Life is about trial and error, Quentin." The doctor said, leaning forward on her elbows, their eyes meeting. "If this girl runs once she finds out, then it's not meant to be. If she doesn't take it as a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"A sign that maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. You're keeping a very crucial part of your life a secret, Quentin. You don't feel yourself around her, which is why you may be letting your best friend ruin everything for you. You don't want to get close."

Quentin sighed, running his hands through his hair. He felt a headache settling in.

"If you feel like it's worth it, I would tell her."

"She is worth it…"

"Then Quentin," Quentin looked up at the doctor, their eyes parallel. "Tell her the truth."


	7. Chapter VII

**Authors Note: I just need to say this - all of you reviewers and readers have been simply amazing lately. Like, really. I just love all of you so much!  
>And I'm just gonna throw this out there just in case something happens; Recently, my Aunt has passed away after battling cancer for many years. This upcoming week is the funeral and memorial service, so if the chapter is late, I'm awfully sorry. My family comes first.<br>And I have a TWITTER! Follow me aliceinamorata**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

_These people are going to think I'm crazy, _he thought, feeling the sharp air slowly glide its way through his lungs. It stabbed through the visceral tissue, making him clamp his eyes shut in pain. His feet stomped on the ground, leaving footprints in the snow that would soon be covered when the nightly snowfall fell from the sky.

_I'm running in twenty-degree weather in a sleeveless shirt and shorts._

He had to get away from everything so he did something that he hadn't done in years – run. Though now he felt out of shape from years of magical education, the running was allowing him to escape from his thoughts, his family…his secret. The idea of telling Rachel Berry his secret was pounding inside his head, prodding with a sharp knife, slowly slicing. He didn't know what he wanted: he could either tell Rachel or not tell her and have Santana expose him fully to the whole school. Telling Rachel seemed like a pretty good option, but then there was the ridicule he may have to endure.

_But she is pretty understanding, _Quentin thought, walking through the snow and into a park. He wiped the snow off of a bench and sat down. _She's understanding, compassionate…kind…beautiful…_

He shook his head, running a hand through his ruffled locks.

"I need a haircut."

"Can I ask you something?"

Quentin's head snapped up, his eyes meeting with the warm brown ones across the way. Rachel stood there in grey jeans and rain boots that reached her knees. Upon her upper half was the pink and gold starred parka that he had seen her in the other day.

And there he sat…in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

"Y-yeah, sure." Quentin stammered. Rachel walked forward, swiping the snow off of the opposite side of the bench, sitting down beside Quentin.

"Why do you let Santana rule you?" She questioned, playing with her fingers. Quentin looked down and saw the soft purple of her gloves; they must have been a little tight because he could see her skin through the sides. "I mean, you're a good person."

"I'm really not," he said, looking down.

_My ass is numb._

"But you are," Rachel pleaded, looking to Quentin. "I see the real you, Quentin. I know you're a good person, you're just scared…of something. I'm not sure what, but you are scared."

Quentin had no other option than to sigh, running a hand through his hair once more. He let his head fall down into his palms, a headache slowly settling in.

_She's a fucking psychic, I know it._

"I would tell you, but I can't." he replied. "If I could, I would. But I can't."

"Do you…not trust me?" Rachel asked, her eyes soft. Quentin felt his body slowly melting within her presence and he knew he had to back off.

He had to act like an ass. He had to go away.

"No." Quentin stood up, walking away as fast as he could. "Why should I trust you when you don't trust me?"

"Quentin, you're a good person." She called, stopping him in his tracks. "Whatever you're hiding…I promise I won't tell anyone. It's always good to have someone to talk to. Like…well…" she sighed, crossing her arms. "I don't have anyone. That's why I was hoping maybe we could confide in one another."

"Why would I confide in you?" Quentin snapped.

"Because I see you."

* * *

><p>"I hate my life!" Quentin yells, slamming the door loudly behind him. Regardless if it's nine a.m or not, Quentin felt as if he had to get his frustration out somehow – he had to do something. Running obviously didn't help because he had found himself running into the last person he wanted to see on the face of the earth. And it was beginning to piss him off that for some reason, he and Rachel Berry had to be on the same street at the same time and place.<p>

He felt like God had it out for him.

"Quentin, honey, please don't yell." Judy called from the kitchen, stepping out in her silk pajamas. She was toweling off her hands as the smell of fresh blueberry pancakes flooded his senses. "Frannie and Christian are still sleeping."

"What about Dah?"

"She's at the table." Judy turned her back to her son before looking over her shoulder, "Come sit down and tell me why you hate the world so much."

Quentin stomped his way into the kitchen, sitting down across from Dahlia. He couldn't help but smile as he saw the little two year old shoving large pieces of blueberry pancake into her mouth. The blueberries were staining her porcelain skin, making it look like she was bruised, but the bruises were very sticky because maple syrup was also dripping onto her face.

Judy placed a plate in front of her son, sitting down at the head of the table and turning to him. "Okay, go on."

"I hate women." Quentin spat, cutting his pancakes and drizzling syrup onto them.

"But…ima woman Uncle 'kentin!" Dahlia pouted, "Do you hate me?"

"No, you're a very special woman Dahlia," Quentin smiled, taking a piece of pancake and shoving it into his mouth. Dahlia copied him and he smile. "It's just…" he took a deep breath, realizing his mother would not like this next sentence. "I want to tell Rachel about…you know…"

Judy looked at her son.

"No, Quentin."

"But Mum I-."

"Isn't Santana and Bryan knowing enough for you?" She stated, sipping the warm cup of tea in front of her.

"It's not that, Mum." Quentin shook his head, playing with the small squares of pancake, "There's a reason I want to tell her."

"And why is that?" Judy snapped, placing her cup back down. "Quentin, if she says something the whole school will know."

_And if I don't say anything and keep seeing Rachel, everyone will find out anyways._

"I…Rachel wouldn't do that." Quentin shook his head, placing another piece of food into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his mothers eyes slicing his flesh away piece by piece.

"Good morning," Frannie called, slowly walking into the kitchen. She had a set of bags beneath her eyes, slightly puffy from still waking up. She leant down and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Why do you hate your life, Q?"

Quentin sighed.

"He wants to tell his secret."

Frannie looked at her little brother, raising her eyebrows. "To Rachel?"

Quentin nodded.

"I think she'll be okay, Mom." Frannie said, pouring a cup of coffee. "She's a good girl…trustworthy. She's very dedicated."

"Well, I don't know her." Judy spat, "I don't want Quentin telling anyone this unless he trusts them fully and I approve."

"What's there to approve of, mother?" Frannie sat down beside Quentin, sliding him another cup that she had poured. She looked at him up and down, "And what the hell are you wearing?"

"Mommy!" Dahlia screeched, "That's a dollah in the swear jaaaaaar!"

"Yes sweetie," she smiled at her daughter and turned back to Quentin. "Why do you want to tell her?"

"I feel like she should know. It would clear up a lot of things."

"Like what?" Judy chimed in, now fully invested in what her son had to say.

She really just wanted the gossip.

"It's none of your business…" Quentin sighed, standing up and pushing in his chair. "I need to go text San and Bryan."

Quentin kissed Dahlia on the head as he slowly walked up the stairs, letting them creek beneath his weight before slamming the door behind him. Downstairs, Frannie just shook her head and chuckled to herself.

"What is it?" Judy asked. Frannie looked at her, smirking.

"Remember when he liked what's their name back in junior high?"

Judy nodded.

"He's acting the same way with Rachel." She sipped her coffee, placing it back down in front of her. "I mean…he wants to tell her because he wants to be honest with her."

Judy Fabray went to open her mouth, but Frannie motioned her to let her speak.

"Rachel is a very, very good girl, Mom. Christian works with her father, Hiram at the hospital…she's very driven, responsible…good girl."

Judy nodded.

Then the two smirked at one another.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"…Dinner party?"

"I'll invite them for tomorrow night."

* * *

><p><em>Santana.<em>

_Quentin. It's about damn time you texted me. How is Loser Lima?_

_Shut up. And it's good. Dahlia is too cute._

_Oh, so she's like me then? _

_Yeah, the exact same. Can I ask for a favor?_

_Depends. What do you want?_

_Go easy on Rachel._

_Go easy on manhands…uh no._

_Come on San, please? She's a good person._

_Yeah, and you're too good for her. So shut up._

_Why do you say that? _

_She's annoying, small, she never shuts up. Her voice is annoying. I mean, really. And it wouldn't hurt for her to grow a couple inches._

_Fine. Be a bitch._

_The only straight I am is a straight up bitch, Q. You know that._

_So…why are you dating a guy?_

_I like my cock straight too. You know how we do ;]_

…_Okay. I didn't need to know that._

_Oh Queefton, I've missed you. _

_Oh Slutana. I haven't missed you. How was your Christmas?_

_Sucked. Yours?_

_I watched Dahlia strangle a stuffed Pikachu. And I went for a run this morning. It was cold as hell._

…_It is winter. Dumbass._

_Fuck you, San._

_Fuck you too, Q. *sends a heart*_

_You have a heart…? lol _

_My heart belongs to Lima Heights Adjacent and all the ladies in it._

_You're an odd one, Santana…but that's why we're best friends._

_Unholy Trinity Forever, baby…and you will always be a part of the Unholy Trinity._

Quentin sighed and replied:

_I know I will be._


	8. Chapter VIII

**Authors Note: So it's time...we will now find out what Quentin's secret is. Some of you have actually guessed it correctly, so kudos to you! People may be a little surprised or even pissed, but I reassure you, the story will be good! **

**And sorry for the wait - family issues suck. I LOVE YOU ALL!  
>Here it comes...<strong>

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

"Quentin!"

He groaned, pulling the pillow over his head and holding it down firmly.

There were three knocks accompanied by Dahlia's little voice.

"Uncle 'Kentin! Gettup!"

_How could anyone deny that cute little voice?_

"Quentin, you need to get up. It's twelve in the afternoon."

Quentin pulled the pillow off of his head and turned to face the alarm clock beside his bed - it was twelve in the afternoon on the dot, but he felt the beds gravitational pull and refused to rise from it. Curling up tightly in the fresh linens, he curled into the fetal position he was so accustomed to sleeping in as a child, slowly letting his eyes fall shut once again.

That is, until Dahlia burst into his room, jumping up and down.

"Gettup!" she screamed loudly, a pleased Frannie standing in the doorway. "Gettup Uncle 'Kentin! Gettup!"

"Dahlia," Quentin groaned, pulling the covers over his head. "Please stop jumping."

"It's time for you to wake up." Frannie said, crossing her hands over her chest. Dahlia stopped jumping, looking at her mother before landing on her feet, running over and clamping her mothers leg. "We're going out shopping today."

The word 'shopping' made Quentin groan even louder. Peeling the covers off of his head and chest, he shot a glare to his sister. "Why must you do this to me?"

"Because we're having company tonight and I want you to look presentable."

"Am I not presentable?" he questioned, leaning up on his arms. "I mean, look at me."

Frannie laughed, "Okay, deflate your head first and then jump in the shower once I'm done. We're going to Old Navy."

"Ew.." Quentin murmured under his breath, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands slowly pulled through the tangled tendrils. Dahlia slowly walked up, holding her stuffed Pikachu by the ear.

"Uncle 'Kentin?" she asked, her big hazel eyes looking up at him. "Can I look pretty tonight too?"

"Of course, Dah," Quentin smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead and standing up. "Mommy and I will make you look pretty."

Quentin listened to his sister step in the shower as he leant against the wall outside of the room. Dahlia scampered down the stairs and entered the kitchen where Judy was preparing a plate of Vegan cupcakes for the guests that would arrive at six.

"Gamma?"

Judy smiled at her granddaughter, "Yes, baby?"

"Who's coming over tonight?"

The blonde knelt down to Dahlia's level, ruffling her hair before picking her up and setting her in her booster seat. "Miss Rachel is coming over."

A wide smile grew over Dahlia's face. "Yay!"

* * *

><p>Judy Fabray stood at the door of the Berry residence, raising a spare hand and knocking, hoping that her one hand was enough to keep the cupcakes stable. The winter was beginning to become more relentless – icy temperatures slowly becoming detrimental and hazardous if one stayed out too long. She had to tell Dahlia before she left that she and Judy couldn't go out and build a snowman later.<p>

Of course, the little girl caused one hell of a fuss before Frannie came downstairs.

Two seconds seemed like an eternity before a small voice inside called, "Coming!" before the door slowly opened, revealing a petite girl with brown hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Rachel?" Judy asked. Rachel stood in the doorway, raising an eyebrow and looking at the woman who was a mystery to her. Rachel saw Judy's eyes and immediately thought of Quentin.

_They have the same eyes…_

"Yes…are you Quentin's mother?" she asked, opening the door wider. Judy nodded and Rachel extended her arm. "Come in and sit down."

Judy noticed the warm décor of the house – warm browns and greens accentuated with black and white photos of family members. The first thing she noticed was the large collection of photos of Rachel; one being a collage with different photos of her growing up. She smiled, "Your house is beautiful."

Rachel nodded, "Thank you…" she noticed the cupcakes. "Are those for us?"

"They are, actually." Judy extended them, "And don't worry, they're vegan."

"Thank you for being so nice about it," Rachel smiled, leading Judy into the kitchen. "Some people I feel bad for. I know when we first moved here from New York, people brought us cakes and brownies unaware that we're vegan." She placed them on the counter and unwrapped them. "Well, my other father isn't."

Judy noticed the harsh tone in the way she spoke about Leroy. The young woman's eyes portrayed a history of hurt that Judy noticed, for Quentin had the same look when he talked about his father.

"And your other one is?" Judy questioned, watching the girl put two cupcakes on two separate plates. Rachel nodded.

"Yes, he is." She handed Judy a plate with a cupcake and smiled. "They smell delicious."

"Frannie had the recipe hidden away. I never made vegan cupcakes before."

"They're actually quite yummy." Rachel said, pulling off a small chunk and popping it in her mouth. She swallowed before opening her mouth again. "Would you like to speak to my father? He's upstairs right now taking care of some files."

"That would be lovely, actually." Judy smiled, following Rachel before sitting down on a couch as the girl walked up the stairs to her father.

_She seems to have resentment towards her father, _Judy said to herself, wringing her scarf between her fingers. _Maybe I'll learn more about the matter._

"Mrs. Fabray," Judy turned her head towards the man walking down the stairs and smiled, standing up and shaking his hand. "Thank you for the cupcakes. We could do with a bit of sweetness lately." He laughed, smiling at his daughter and then Judy. "Rachel seems very fond of them."

"They aren't hard to make. I'll give you the recipe."

Hiram nodded, smiling at the woman before sitting down beside her. "Excuse the smell of the house. I'm still trying to get the beer smell out of the carpet." He tried to laugh off the matter but it was terribly executed.

"I actually didn't smell anything," Judy said, noticing Rachel sitting on the recliner on the other side of the room. She curled up perfectly in it, wrapping her legs together and opening her potions book.

Sometimes Judy forgot her son was a wizard. She's a muggle but her ex-husband was a pure blood.

Hiram coughed, "Anyways, what can I do for you?"

"Frannie and I were wondering if you and Rachel would like to come to dinner tonight?"

Hiram looked at his daughter, who refused to take her nose out of her Potions book. "I would love to," he said, keeping his eyes on his daughter. "Rachel?"

"Huh?" she looked up from her book before setting it down on her lap. "Sure…I'd love to see Dahlia."

"And Quentin." Judy pushed, winking at the young girl. She watched a blush slowly wash over her face before smiling and standing up. "It's settled then. I'll see you guys at six?"

Hiram nodded, "Six it is."

Rachel groaned immediately as Judy shut the door behind her. Hiram looked at her oddly, "What is it?"

She sighed, "Quentin and I don't see eye-to-eye, Daddy."

* * *

><p>Hiram walked over to his daughter and pressed a soothing kiss to the top of her head, "Maybe you two can sort it out tonight then…and take a shower. We want to smell nice."<p>

"Mommy! Mommy! Look at this pink dress!"

"Dahlia," Frannie said, kneeling down to her daughter as Quentin looked around the large store. "We're here for Quentin. Mommy will get you a pink dress another time, okay?"

Dahlia nodded sadly, running over to Quentin and taking his hand. Quentin winker at her and Dahlia smiled happily. "Sis, you don't need to do this."

"I want you to look nice…hmm…what about this?" Frannie held up a pink button down shirt that made Quentin's face go sour. "Real men wear pink, Quentin."

"Yeah, real gay men. Put it down."

Frannie shook her head, rummaging through some shirts as Quentin pulled Dahlia to other sections. As he pushed through some clearance items, Dahlia squealed and ran towards a small stand behind him.

"Dah, what are you doing?" he asked, turning his head over his shoulder. Dahlia stood up on her tip-toes, pulling an item off of the stand and running over to Quentin with it.

"Look!" She held up a dark green tie. "I like it…"

Quentin couldn't help but smile, taking the tie and holding it to his chest, "Like this?"

"Nooooooooo," Dahlia cried, taking the tie and reaching up, wrapping it loosely around his head, "Like dat!"

He laughed, taking the tie off of his head and letting it drape over his arm. "I'll get it, okay?"

Dahlia clapped, letting Quentin pick her up and hold her while resuming pushing through clearance items. Everything was nice, including a black button down plaid shirt that was something he would definitely wear, but now he was on a mission to find something that would match the dark green tie Dahlia had picked out for him.

_I have nice jeans at home, _he thought, pulling out a brown shirt before pulling it back. He noticed Dahlia make a face when he did that. _I just need a nice shirt…_

"Oh Quentin!"

"I'm going to shoot her…" Quentin hissed under his breath, hoping that Dahlia couldn't hear him. When she little girl laughed he knew he had blown it. Frannie rushed over with a bag of items that she wanted Quentin to try on. She looked at the tie in his hand.

"Are you going to get that?" she asked, smiling. "It brings out your eyes."

Quentin nodded, a slight flush rising to the surface of his skin. "Dah picked it out."

"Yeah mommy!" Dahlia cried, starting to squirm. Quentin put her down on the ground, letting the girl run over to the bag, rummaging relentlessly through the items. "Oooooo!"

"Dahlia, let's let Quentin choose." Frannie said, picking up the bag and taking her daughters hand. "Dressing room, here we come!"

Quentin had to follow – he had no choice. His older sister was buying him new clothes for some special company tonight he has no idea of.

But for some reason, he felt like the term 'good' was the exact opposite of what would happen.

* * *

><p>"Do you care to tell me why you and Quentin don't get along?" Hiram asked, leaning on the door frame. His eyes were on his daughter who, at the moment, was running a curling iron over small sections of her hair; she was still in her night shirt, but her hair and makeup were a work in progress.<p>

Even though her and Quentin weren't necessarily an item, she wanted to look good in hopes that he would change his mind – even though she knew it wouldn't happen.

"He did this to me," Rachel replied, pointing to the brace on her nose. The bruises were beginning to fade so now they were just an olive-yellow shade. "But it's not a concern…he's just…confusing."

"Confusing?" Hiram asked, his mouth in a straight line. He disliked anyone that hurt his precious baby girl. "Why?"

"One moment I think he…" she felt awkward speaking to her father about this, "I think he likes me, but then when he's with his friends he's a jerk."

Hiram nodded, watching Rachel comb her fingers through her curls, creating luxurious waves. "I don't know what he wants you to do."

"Well, obviously he wants to talk if he's okay with you coming over in.." Hiram looked at his watch, "Twenty minutes."

"Am I taking too long?" Rachel asked, her eyes wide with worry. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" She rushed into her room, keeping the door open behind her as she rummaged through her bra and panty drawer, pulling out a matching baby blue pair.

"Wear something nice, darling," Hiram called from the staircase. "I'll be waiting in the car."

The nicest thing Rachel could find that wasn't too dressy was a little black dress. She looked beautiful.

At the same time Rachel's heart was pounding, Quentin found himself sitting on the couch with a book in front of his face. Dahlia was pretty pleased with the choice of clothing, making sure that he was perfect enough for her Miss Rachel; she ran behind him, messing up his hair and giggling.

"Dah!" Quentin cried, putting down his book and combing his fingers through his hair, setting it back in place. "Please don't do that."

"I want you to look nice for Miss Rachel!" Dahlia cried, clapping her hands together before raising them in the air. "Miss Rachel is extra pretty!"

"Miss…Rachel?" Quentin asked slowly, his eyebrow arching in the air. "Rachel is coming over?"

"With her Daddy!" Dahlia exclaimed, "She has two daddy's!"

Quentin slowly nodded, knowing he couldn't take out the gravity of the situation on Dahlia, so the moment Frannie came downstairs, he grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her into the kitchen. He looked at her with a scowl.

"Why is she coming here?" He asked, his angry tone slipping through his teeth. "Do you not understand? Her and I we…we have history. And not a good one."

"You need to fix it." Frannie said, calmly crossing her arms over her chest. "You want to tell her. Tonight can be the night."

"In front of her father?" Quentin yelled, "Are you crazy?"

Frannie smirked, "You're crazy about her."

The doorbell rang.

"Showtime!" Judy cried from the top of the staircase.

"If you weren't crazy about her, you wouldn't even be considering telling her, Quentin." Frannie placed a hand on Quentin's shoulder as the doorbell rang once more. "Admit it."

Dahlia was jumping up and down in the living room when Frannie opened the door. From the kitchen, Quentin could see Rachel in all her glory. For once, her legs were bare – he never noticed how toned they were. She wore a little black dress that hit mid-thigh but it was balanced with a modest neckline and long sleeves. The brown locks she normally had down and limp were curled and vivacious, bounding with every motion. She smiled at Frannie, giving her a hug before allowing Dahlia to jump into her arms.

He also saw her father – Hiram – who had pale skin like him and dark rimmed glasses. He too was dressed nicely, smiled happily when shaking Frannie's hand. Christian came down the stairs and gave Hiram a hug as Rachel sat down with Dahlia.

"Miss Rachel!" Dahlia cried, picking up Quentin's book, "What's this about?"

Rachel smiled, taking the book in her hands gently before noticing the book mark and placing it in it. "Why don't you ask Quentin?" she asked, "I'm sure this is his book. I've never read The Tale of Two Cities."

"Uncle 'Kentin!" Dahlia cried, marching into the kitchen. Quentin swore to himself, rushing to the oven to make it look like he was checking on dinner. To his surprise, his mothers vegan dinner smelled quite nice. "Uncle 'Kentin!" Little Dahlia put her hands on her hips, "Tell Miss Rachel and I the story of Two Cities!"

He could hear Rachel laughing in the background with Frannie, Judy, Christian and her father – did he really have any choice?

"Alright," he sighed, taking Dahlia's hand and letting her lead back into the living room. Rachel met his gaze and smiled gently, muttering a 'hello.' "Hi there, Rachel…"

_Compliment her, moron._

"You look…" he coughed, "Beautiful."

Rachel smiled, blushing, "You look quite dapper as well, Quentin…" she noticed the green tie and white button down shirt, "You're wearing your House colors."

"With all this family time, I hardly remember she's a witch." Hiram laughed, looking to Frannie and Judy. Judy laughed as well while Quentin let Dahlia sit between him and Rachel. "What House are you in, Quentin?" Hiram asked, his eyes like daggers getting ready to stab.

"Uh…" he coughed, picking up his book. "Slytherin."

Hiram nodded, "The Dark Magic House."

"It's affiliated with Dark Magic, Sir," Quentin replied, "But in reality, Slytherins are just very goal oriented. They will do whatever is necessary to achieve that goal."

"Any goals in mind?"

Quentin nodded.

"Go on."

"I want to be an Auror." He said, "Or…I want to help children with identity issues."

"Like?" Hiram asked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms. "What do you mean by identity issues?"

"I want to help children discover themselves and be who they are." Their eyes met. "Some parents hold their children back."

Hiram nodded, "I've seen that in my line of work," he turned to Christian, "Have you seen it too?"

"I'm not in the operating room, Hiram," Christian laughed, "But I'm sure it happens."

"You're a doctor?" Quentin asked. Hiram nodded.

"I'm a child surgeon. I also do normal doctor work."

Quentin nodded. He felt Rachel's eyes on him.

Rachel sat quietly, her fingers wringing in her lap. She felt that the room was too warm for her taste, but she didn't want to wrinkle the sleeves of her dress so she kept them down.

_Quentin called me 'beautiful.' That's the nicest thing he's ever said to me._

"How about we have a couple drinks while the teenagers talk?" Judy said, standing up and walking into the kitchen, "Any preference, Hiram?"

"I could do with a nice glass of wine." he replied, standing up and following Judy into the kitchen. Christian took Dahlia with him and Frannie, settling her into her booster seat.

Rachel sat in the same position fidgeting as Quentin fingered the pages of his book. She looked at him and he didn't know what to do.

"Your…" Quentin raised his head, obviously feeling awkward. "Your nose seems to be getting better."

She nodded, "Yeah, it is."

"I'm…sorry about that…" He apologized, looking into her dark brown eyes. "I truly, deeply am sorry."

"Yeah…that's what you said the time you set my hair on fire."

"I know…"

"And the time you threw my flyers in the air and burned them."

"I know…"

"And the time you put a spell on me so my skirt would come down and then I would proceed to trip and break my nose."

"Okay, having you fall and break your nose wasn't the intent," Quentin intervened, holding his hand up. Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"But showing the whole school my panties was?"

_How the fuck to I respond to that?_

"I-I guess so…"

_I'm not even in love with the girl and she has me whipped._

"I just…don't know why you do it." Rachel said, "I know you're a good person it's just…you're scared of something."

"Yeah."

"Maybe if you told me what you're scared of, I could help you."

"Rachel, I…"

"Rachel! Quentin!"

Quentin felt his heart sink into his stomach – he groaned. "Dinner!"

Rachel smiled, standing up. "Do you know what we're eating?" She clasped her hands behind her as she walked into the kitchen, not waiting for Quentin to reply. Frannie was settling the dinner on the table when the two walked in – Rachel sitting next to Dahlia, leaving Quentin to sit next to her father.

_She's fucking doing this on purpose._

"So," Hiram asked, taking a large portion of the meal that looked like tofu noodles tossed in an array of vegetables, "Why did you invite us over tonight?"

Judy smiled and looked at Frannie. "Quentin actually needed to tell Rachel something."

Quentin choked on his water, coughing loudly. Hiram slapped his back a couple times – perhaps a little too hard – before he finally stopped, his eyes tearing.

"At the dinner table?" Quentin glared.

Frannie shrugged. "You have a doctor and family here. What you want to say is normal."

"I just…don't want to do it at the dinner table." Quentin sighed, picking at his food.

Judy sighed, "Rachel, sweetie," she smiled, taking Rachel's hand, "Quentin's real name is Quinn."

Quentin felt his heart speeding up, sweat beading at his forehead as his hands began to slowly tremble. He saw Rachel's reaction out of the corner of his eye – her head tilted to the side in curiousity – he knew she didn't understand yet. Deep breaths couldn't soothe the decision he was about to make. Hell, the decision wasn't being made by him: it was being made by his fucking family.

"So you just changed your name?" Rachel questioned. Quentin heard Hiram take in a deep breath; they looked at one another.

"You're…?"

Quentin nodded.

"You look great."

"Thank you, Sir."

Rachel looked at Quentin, "What is going on?"

Quentin sighed, running his hand through his hair, taking the deepest breath he will ever take in his lifetime, "My real name _was _Lucy Quinn Fabray."

Rachel's eyes widened.

"I was born a girl."


	9. Chapter IX

**Authors Note: This chapter is really short...I didn't know what else to put in it. So now, since you guys rule the world, tell me what you want to happen next! (Smut and kisses are not an option. Mwahahahahaha!) Thanks for being patient guys!**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray<br>Alice Inamorata

"I was born a girl."

"What?" Rachel Berry replied, raising her eyebrow. "Are you serious right now?"

Quentin slowly nodded, his eyes looking at the fuming Rachel in front of him. Next to him, Hiram folded his napkin and placed it beside his empty plate and at the other side of the table, Judy and Frannie looked at one another worried.

"Quentin Fabray." Rachel stood up, placing her hands on her hips and pointing to the entrance door. "Outside, now."

Quentin stood up, his facial expression mangled between worried and pure fear. He followed the diva to the front door that she waited to be opened for, before storming outside.

"Well…" Hiram coughed, taking a sip of his water, "That went well."

Judy shrugged and sighed, resting her elbow on the table. "I don't think we should have had him tell her at the dinner table."

"Duh." Frannie replied, pushing around her sautéed vegetables with her fork. "It would have been better if he had told her privately."

"Well, they're speaking now." Hiram chimed in. "I just hope Rachel doesn't rip his head off."

"Do you think she will..?" Judy asked, her face tensed. Hiram shook his head.

"No. If anything, she'll just be surprised. He does look good."

Judy nodded, "It was four years in the making…"

* * *

><p>Quentin was debating whether to just stay on the porch, run for the hills, or run back inside only to lock his door behind him. He definitely didn't gauge Rachel's reaction as strong as that – he was hoping for a shrug and a smile as well as a 'Well, that's cool. Tell me more.' Not a, 'What. The. Hell.'<p>

Well, both of those reactions weren't even close to how Rachel was feeling. It wasn't anger or regret, it was more of an empty feeling. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Quentin to turn around from the door.

"I'm not going to yell at you." She said, sitting down on the white bench.

"…Y-You're not?" Quentin asked, slowly turning his body so he could see her. Rachel's expression had changed from angry and wanting to mutilate him to gentle and tender compassion. She patted to space beside her, motioning him to sit. As he did, he managed to sit farther to the end of the bench than closer to Rachel.

"I'm just more upset that you couldn't tell me…" she whispered, playing with her hands in her lap. Her head had fallen, watching herself playing with her fingers and eventually pulling the hem of her sleeves down to cover her icy hands. "I've done nothing but tried to be friends with you, Quentin. You really thought you couldn't tell me?"

"It's more complicated than that, Rachel."

"Then tell me," she countered, looking up from her hands. Her brown eyes stared at him. "Tell me why you couldn't tell me."

Quentin stood up, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt the winter air pierce through his thin button down shirt. He paced back and fourth on the porch, occasionally glancing outside at the night sky that cried small snowflakes. He sighed, "It's…it's a long story."

"I have time."

"Rachel, you really.." Quentin sighed, turning to her, "You don't need to sit here and listen to my life story."

"I want to." She smiled. "I want to understand you better. I know you're not the cold, hardened jackass that you want others to see. You're…nice…"

"Yeah, I've been really nice to you, haven't I?" Quentin sneered, leaning onto the railing.

"I always thought there was a reason. Now I know it."

"You don't even know. Stop trying to make it seem like you do."

"Quentin," he heard her stand up from the bench and felt her warm body beside him as she relaxed her back against the railing. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Being a jerk. Just tell me everything…"

Quentin looked down.

"You can trust me, Quentin."

_But can you trust me, _he thought, _that's the problem._

"…When I was six, I went to my mum and said I was in the wrong body. At least, that's what she told me. I don't remember doing that…" he took a deep breath, looking out to the full moon. "She just let me express myself the way I wanted to. When we went shopping, she let me buy stuff from the boys side instead of the girls side. Of course, I couldn't wear the clothes in public."

"Why not?"

"Because of the ridicule. My mum made me go to school in dresses with my hair all done nice. I remember one time, it was my first day of school, and I cried all the way to school because mum made me wear a pink dress and tights."

Rachel nodded, moving closer to him, "Keep going."

"I just hated being a girl. I hated the pink dresses and the tights and the makeup…I hated all of it. I wanted to play football and baseball…Mum understood that. She understood I liked to wear boys clothes instead of girls clothes…my Dad," he sighed, "My Dad is another story."

"I thought you didn't have a Dad. I never asked…" Rachel commented, crossing her arms over her chest as she shivered. "He didn't agree?"

Quentin scoffed, "'Didn't agree' is a nice way of putting it. He threatened to divorce my mother if she let me do what I wanted. He wanted his little girls to dress like girls and act like girls. Frannie was his perfect little girl…I was the reject…

"So he forced me to be a girl. I kept everything inside until I was about thirteen years old…that was my breaking point. I tore up all my dresses, threw out my high heels, cut up the tights, broke the jewelry. He came into my room and said, 'I didn't raise a butch. Be a fucking girl.' And I said, 'No.' Ultimately my Mum came in and broke it up. Since then, my father has been out of my life. He doesn't even know I'm trans now."

"That's…stupid." Rachel said, "He should accept you for who you are! You're his son!" She pushed up off of the railing and looked at Quentin, "Are you telling me that he hasn't spoken to you in almost five years?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Quentin replied, turning to balance his hip against the railing. "Thankfully I have great friends…Santana and Brian have been there for me through all of it."

Rachel made a face, scrunching her lips off to the side. It made Quentin chuckle lightly.

"I know they don't seem great to you, but they've been there for me and that's all I've ever needed."

Rachel walked up to Quentin, raising a hand and rubbing it gently against his face. She felt the stubble beneath his skin, his soft skin that arose when the stubble was gone. Quentin allowed her to touch – he allowed her hand to trace down his chest to feel how flat it was.

"Did you have breasts?"

Quentin nodded.

"You had them chopped off?"

Quentin laughed out loud, shaking his head. "It's called a mastectomy. It's a breast reduction."

Rachel nodded, "I could have used some of your breasts. You should have given them to me, Quentin!" She cried, smiling happily. Quentin smiled too, taking her hand and holding it between his.

"I'm sorry I've been so cruel to you. It's just…Santana is holding this over my head, saying that if I don't treat you like shit, she'll out me to the whole school."

"What?" Rachel pulled away. "Are you kidding me? Why is she doing this? I swear, if she does anything, I will tell Professor Schuster that she was the one who drew all of those pornographic pictures of me on the walls of the girls bathroom and it most CERTAINLY wasn't Moaning Myr -."

"Rachel."

"Yes? My other father is a lawyer you know. I don't like him very much but I can have him do SOMETHING."

He laughed, "I don't need an attorney, Rachel, but thanks anyways. I don't know why she's holding it against me, but she is. I just…wanted to tell you so you didn't find out from her."

Rachel nodded, smiling up at Quentin. "So you told me so she couldn't?" She smirked playfully, "Well, Quentin, you keep stepping on your own feet."

A smile formed on Quentin's face before he extended his hand to Rachel, she took it, allowing herself to be led back in the house. With his other hand on the doorknob, Quentin turned back and looked at the young woman behind him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. After what happened between us…it's the least I could have done, right?"

Rachel nodded, "Right…but from now on, just know you can tell me anything, okay?"

Quentin nodded, "Okay. Now can we go back in and eat? I didn't finish my vegetables."


End file.
